


a complicated relationship with clowns

by Karentt1



Category: Modern Family (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Banter, Crack, F/M, Humor, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Minor Homophobic Comments, Misunderstandings, Not Beta Read, Slow Burn, Swearing, Unbeta'd, and fucks up again, awkward clown flirting, but im an underage queer mess, cam does something romantic and mitchell assmues death, i cant believe im writing slow burn for a fucking sitcom, i cant explain it he just does, i cant write sex, i may be a queer mess, jay fucks up, let alone romance scenes, me? projecting onto mitchell? its more likely than you think, mentioned sexual moments, mitchell gives off "call him cute and you die" vibes, nothing like two loving siblings telling each other to shut the fuck up, their first meeting is different, tries to be a good dad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-24
Updated: 2020-06-24
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:22:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 30,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24890746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Karentt1/pseuds/Karentt1
Summary: Mitchell feels uncomfortable because a clown has been flirting with him all through major family events. Luckily, he now has a loving boyfriend, Cameron, to distract him. There is something oddly familiar about him though...(the one where Fizbo has a crush on Mitchell, Mitchell has a crush on Cameron, and Cameron is wondering why Mitchell never called him back.)
Relationships: Claire Dunphy/Phil Dunphy, Mitchell Pritchett/Cameron Tucker
Comments: 26
Kudos: 47





	a complicated relationship with clowns

**Author's Note:**

> i cant believe I wrote an angsty scene for modern family. i really should start writing for the witcher again. 
> 
> is it obvious that idk how to end a story. i would like to apologise in advance.

Mental note to future Mitchell: always leave at least ten minutes earlier than expected otherwise you will be stuck in traffic when you’re rushing from work to your older sister's youngest son’s birthday party. 

Mitchell tucked that thought away into the corners of his mind, hoping he’ll remember it for next year. It was the second time that had happened. Claire had barely forgiven him for missing the first three hours of Luke's party last year. He didn’t want to be late again, but at the rate the highway was moving, Luke would already be in college when Mitchell finally arrived at his fourth birthday. 

“Fucking hurry up,” he muttered under his breath, like that would do anything, angrily cursing out the vehicles in front of him. Somewhere at the front of the line, a horn honked, and the line slowly inched forward. Mitchell checked his watch. 3:54 pm. The party starts in six minutes. He wasn’t going to make it. 

“Shit,” he breathed. Claire was going to kill him. 

The line of cars started moving, and Mitchell stepped on the gas pedal. It was still slow going, but the line was gradually gaining speed, and Mitchell breathed a sigh of relief. He was still going to be late, but at least it wouldn’t be by hours this time. 

He passed the cause of the traffic jam a few minutes later, a car wreck, two cars flipped over with a semi a few feet away in the ditch. After that, the line finally dissolved, heading back into the normal speed. Mitchell went a few miles over the speed limit, turning into the neighbourhood where his sister lived. 

A few minutes later, driving past rows of identical houses, he was pulling to the side of the curb. His sister's driveway was already filled with cars. He recognised Jay’s and Dede’s, and felt a small bit of terror fill him. Jay and Dede in the same room as each other were bound to end up fighting, just like they did when he and Claire were children. Not only that, but he was dreading seeing his father again after a nasty fight they had a few weeks ago. Mitchell neglected to mention he was dating again, and he had only mentioned it because his phone kept ringing during their dinner. He had already broken it off from the man, but he really didn’t need Jay’s disapproving looks at the moment. 

Mitchell turned off the engine and stepped out of the car. He took a deep breath and then took off his tie. He had come right from work, and thought that showing up to his nephew's party wearing a suit and tie wasn’t that cool. He threw it back into the car, then went to the back of the house where the kids were gathering. 

He made it to the party at 4:07 pm. Children were already running around, screaming their heads off. Some had water guns and water balloons in their tiny hands, and they chased each other maliciously. A table was set up on the other side of the yard, filled with chips, soda, and vegetable platters. The parents were milling around near the fences, holding bottles of water, gossiping with each other, staying out of the way of the chaos. 

“Mitchell! There you are,” Claire yelled, running up to him, breathing heavily. Her shirt was soaking wet, and a group of laughing kids ran past them. Mitchell could already guess who the culprits were. “You’re here. And you’re not late this time.” 

“It was one time Claire.” 

“And Luke was so excited to see you,” she shot back. “But this time you’re not the only latecomer.” 

Claire crossed her arms, looking around conspicuously. She leaned in, speaking in low tones. “I hired a clown for Luke’s party and he still hasn’t shown up yet. He was supposed to get here a half an hour ago.” 

“You hired a clown?” Mitchell asked. “Weren’t clowns popular back in the 1950’s?” 

“1960’s actually.” Mitchell gave her a strange look and she sighed. “I did some research. Luke has been asking for one since last year and Phil finally relented. But he’s not here yet.” 

“Have you tried calling him?” Mitchell suggested. Claire glared at him, and Mitchell held his hands up in surrender. 

“Of course I’ve tried calling him, what else can I do?” she yelled, before slumping with defeat. She placed her forehead on Mitchell's shoulder, and he awkwardly patted her head. “I’m sorry, but I’ve been planning this for so long, and it’s just as chaotic as I imagined. You wouldn’t believe some of these kids, they ambushed me just a few minutes before you arrived.” 

Almost on cue a group of boys ran past, Luke as their leader, and sprayed Claire using some water guns. Claire jerked and moved away from Mitchell to glare at them. Mitchell brushed away some drops that landed on his suit while Claire shook the water off. The boys laughed, before running away again, Luke staying behind to greet Mitchell. 

“Hey uncle Mitch,” he yelled, running towards him. He wrapped his arms around Mitchells waist, soaking him in water. Mitchell hugged him back, trying to ignore the water and dirt now stuck to his front, and failing. The suit had been brand new too. Claire laughed at him silently, and Mitchell wanted to punch the smug grin off her face. 

“Hey Luke! How’s the party?” 

Luke finally pulled away, and beamed up at Mitchell. “It’s amazing. We got water guns and water balloons, and there is going to be a clown!” 

Claire looked at Mitchell worryingly. “Um, about that Luke,” she said, crouching down to his level. She placed a hand on his shoulder, trying to be sympathetic. “I can’t contact the clown. He might not be-” 

“Do I hear a little boy's birthday in need of entertainment?” a voice boomed from the front gate, and nearly every parent turned their heads to see the newcomer enter the yard. 

“Oh,” Claire said. “Nevermind.” 

The clown was tall, with a bright purple coat and oversized shoes. He was wearing bright white face paint and a purple wig. Across the yard, Mitchell could see Phil turn pale and run inside the house in terror, trying to get away. 

“A clown,” Luke cried, running towards the man. The rest of the children followed, and the clown beamed, delighted by the attention. 

“I think I found him,” Mitchell pointed out, and Claire stood back up, slapping him in the chest. Mitchell glared at her, and rubbed the spot she hit. They wandered over with the rest of the parents, where their children were huddled around the clown. 

“My name is Fizbo the clown, and I’m here for a little boy named Luke?” the clown boomed, and Luke raised his hand excitedly from the front. 

“That’s me,” he waved, his hands moving around wildly, and Fizbo leaned down to meet his eyes. 

“How old are you going to be?” he asked, hands on his hips, and Mitchell was 90% sure the clown was gay when not dressing up as a kids entertainer. 

“I’m four years old,” Luke said, holding up three fingers, and from beside Mitchell, Claire placed her head in her hands in disappointment. 

“I thought we fixed that,” she groaned, and Mitchell patted her back, not knowing what else to do. 

“Four years old?” the clown exclaimed. “That’s very old. What kind of balloon animal do you want?” 

“A fire breathing dragon,” Luke yelled, a strange glint in his eyes. “I’ll use it to burn down our house and eat our neighbours.” He growled, making claws with his hands, and the kids around him laughed. The parents looked at each other in amusement. 

“Is that something we should be concerned about?” Mitchell asked, watching as Fizbo twisted a green balloon into a dragon, with another orange one as fire. He handed it to Luke, who was delighted, and then the clown went to the next kids request, a pink dog. 

“Nah, the doctor says he’ll grow out of it soon,” Claire responded. She tugged his arm, signalling him to follow her. “Come on, let's go get something to eat.” 

They wandered over to the snack table, and Mitchell grabbed a plastic water bottle. Some of the other adults had given up on watching Fizbo and came over with them. Some of the kids ran off with their new balloon animals, the rest still waiting anxiously for their own. Luke was up in the tree, waving his new balloon animal around, pretending to spray fire everywhere, while the other kids screamed from below him. 

“So how’s work?” Claire asked, opening a bag of chips. Water sprayed everyone as the kids went back to their water gun fight, and Claire dodged some squirts expertly. 

“My boss is still a prick,” Mitchell complained, rolling his eyes just thinking about the man. “He wants me to work overtime this weekend for some trial that was his to deal with in the first place.” 

“Jesus,” Claire muttered. “What’d you tell him?” 

“I told him to go to hell, and that I was using my weekend to relax.” 

“Really?” 

Mitchell licked his lips and looked away. “No. I told him I’d see him on Saturday,” he said quietly. He wished he could be more assertive with his boss, like Claire used to be when she was working, but the man had looked at him with such disappointment when he had hesitated just a second too long, and he found that he couldn’t deny his boss anything. 

“Jesus Christ Mitchell, don’t let dad hear that, he’d never let it go.” 

Mitchell nodded in agreement, thinking of all the teasing he’d have to endure from Jay, before looking around in confusion. “Where is dad anyway?” 

“I sent him and mom to get some cupcakes for the party,” Claire replied, leaning on the snacks table. Mitchell looked at her in shock. 

“You sent them together? Do you want them to fight each other?” Mitchell asked. He would have expected her to try and keep them as far away from each other as possible for the party to avoid causing a scene. He shook his head, wondering what Claire was up to. 

“Yes actually,” Claire said, finishing her chips and throwing the bag into the garbage. “They fight on the way to get the cupcakes, then when they get back they can’t even stand to look at each other, and they go separate ways. Boom. No giant scene.” 

Mitchell thought about it for a few seconds. “Genius,” he muttered, and Claire nodded smugly. “Why didn’t we think of that when we were children?” 

Claire shrugged, drinking some water to wash down the chips. “Too busy keeping them apart I guess.” 

Mitchell remembered their childhood and the extreme measures the two of them went to keep their parents from fighting, and thought that maybe that way was easier, just letting his parents fight it out until they were done. 

Across the yard, Fizbo was done handing out balloon animals. He looked around, then noticed them talking. He began walking over and Mitchell elbowed Claire to get her attention. Fizbo finally got in front of them, and Mitchell smiled politely, and decided to stay silent. He was still slightly terrified of clowns. 

“I’m sorry I’m late ma’am,” the clown said, bowing cartoonishly. His voice was high pitched, and Mitchell cringed slightly. “The traffic was horrible on the highway.” 

“I’m just glad you’re here,” Claire said relieved. “Luke has been looking forward to this for weeks.” 

“Well, I’m just glad I got here in time. Fizbo the clown, at your service. You must be Mrs. Dunphy.” He turned to Mitchell. “And you must be Mr. Dunphy.” 

“Oh no,” they both said at the same time, with an equal amount of disgust in their face. “We’re siblings, Mr. Dunphy is somewhere inside.” 

“Besides,” Claire continued. “Mitchell isn’t even-” she was cut off as Mitchell jabbed an elbow into her side, trying to get her to shut up. She let out a little “oomph” before staying quiet. Fizbo looked at them funny, before shaking his head. 

“Oh well, that’s my mistake,” Fizbo chortled. “Now, I have to leave in two hours, so I think I’ll do my show whenever you want, then entertain the kiddos until it’s time to leave, kapeesh?” 

“Uh yeah, that’s good,” Claire said. “We’ll pay you after, okay?” 

“Oh no Mrs. Dunphy, clowns don’t get paid unless it’s in the laughter of little boys and girls,” Fizbo said, winking. “I’ll meet you after the party in the house to discuss it further.” 

“Okay,” Claire said confused, waving him off. “Now go do whatever it is you do.” 

“Yes Ma’am,” Fizbo saluted, before wandering back into the party. The kids continued to crowd him, asking for more balloon animals, and Fizbo indulged them, giving them all a second one. Mitchell gave Claire a strange look. 

“Paid in the laughter of little boys and girls? That’s kinda creepy right?” 

“At least he didn’t break character,” she replied. She checked her watch, and sighed. “Where are mom and dad with the cupcakes?” 

“I don’t even know why Luke wanted a clown,” Mitchell continued, ignoring her. “I hated them as a child. Ronald McDonald is terrifying, I didn’t even want to enter that restaurant. Still don’t, and not just because the terrible health effects of their meals are atrocious.” 

“Yeah yeah, come on,” Claire said, dragging Mitchell by his wrist into the house. They almost got ambushed again by water guns, but dodged the squirts of water, entering the house. The sounds of the party were muted as Claire shut the door, and the house was silent. Alex was on the couch reading a book, and Haley was playing on the computer, fingers flying across the keys with a speed that was nearly impossible to follow. Phil was sitting at the kitchen table, muttering something under his breath, nursing a cup of tea. 

“Hey Phil,” Mitchell said, and everyone in the house turned to them. 

“Hi uncle Mitchell,” Alex waved from the couch. Haley waved from her spot by the computer, not tearing her eyes from the electronic. Phil stood up, brushing off imaginary dust from his clothes. 

“Mitchell, it’s good to see you,” he said, hugging Mitchell. Mitchell awkwardly hugged him back, not used to Phil's comfort with physical contact. It was one of the first things he had noticed about the man when Claire first started dating him. He didn’t think he could ever date someone who was as touchy-feely as Phil. 

“Good to see you too,” Mitchell said, pulling back from the hug. Phil looked a little shaken, and Mitchell didn’t know how he was the only one who had picked up on Phil's intense fear of clowns. 

Claire was at the phone, calling Jay to ask where he was, and the sound echoed in the silent house. The phone rang for a few minutes before Jay finally picked up. 

“Where are you?” Claire demanded as soon as he answered. The voice sounded on the other end, and the blood drained from Claire’s face. Mitchell looked at Phil confused, and he shrugged back. 

“Are you serious?” she yelled, and the voice spoke again. 

“Well, I’m glad you’re okay, but we still need some cupcakes for the party.” 

The voice spoke again. “You’re kidding.” 

Again. 

“Motherfucker,” Claire said, leaning against the fridge, looking defeated. “Good bye. Love you. Be safe.” 

Claire hung up the phone, and set it down gently. It was quiet for a few seconds before she spoke again. “Mom and dad got into a car accident.” 

“What?” Mitchell yelled, moving away from Phil towards his sister. “What happened?” he asked frantically, every horrible outcome running through his head. He didn’t think he’d be able to deal if both Dede and Jay were dead. 

“They picked up the cupcakes, argued over the right way to head back, then fought over the steering wheel.” 

“Jesus,” Mitchell said. “So much for your master plan.” 

Claire glared at him, and he shrugged. “Are they alright at least?” 

“Yeah, they’re alive, but the cupcakes didn’t make it.” Claire started to pace the kitchen area, shaking her hands. “What are we going to do? Luke is going to be so disappointed. What’s a birthday party without cake?”

“We can make them ourselves,” Phil suggested. 

“That’s a stupid idea,” Mitchell replied. 

“It’s actually not that bad,” Claire said, stopping her pacing, and tapping her finger against the counter. She thought for a few seconds, before stopping, and turning to other occupants in the room. Her eyes were filled with a new determination, and Mitchell felt a shiver run down his spine. “Okay, here's the plan. Mitchell you make the cupcakes, I’ll make the icing, and Phil, you distract the kids for another hour until they’re done.” 

“You mean outside with Fizbo?” 

“Yeah, what else?” Claire asked, confused. “Is there a problem?” 

Phil was silent for a few seconds, his entire life flashing across his eyes. “Nope,” he finally said, then hesitantly approached the door. He reached out a shaking hand, then opened the door, and left the house on unsteady legs. Claire and Mitchell watched him leave. 

“I’ll never understand that man,” Claire murmured, then reached into the cabinets and pulled out two aprons. She put on the blue one, and then tossed the light green one to Mitchell. He glared at the frills and lace distastefully. 

“Oh yeah,” he said sarcastically. “Just because I’m gay that means that I know how to bake and that I wear frilly aprons all the time.” He unfolded it and noticed the pink bows on the straps. He rolled his eyes at the decorations. 

“First of all, I asked you because you dated the pastry chef for six months and it was all you two did together,” Claire said. “And two, green brings out your eyes. What, do you want the purple one instead?” 

Mitchell stayed silent for a few seconds studying the article of clothing. “Really?” he asked uncertainty, holding up the apron to his face. “I always thought blue did.” 

“Mitchell, you’re not making the case you think you are for being the most masculine gay around. Do you know how to bake or not?” 

“I do, I do,” Mitchell exclaimed, throwing off his suit jacket and putting on the apron. “It even has pink lace,” he muttered under his breath, tying a bow at the back. “God, this is so gay.” 

“Mitchell, you are gay. Remember that time I caught you and our next door neighbour-” 

“Okay, okay Claire, your kids are here too, they don’t need to hear about that,” Mitchell cried. He sighed, and started to bring out the ingredients, flour and eggs. “It’s not like you didn’t do anything with him either.” 

Claire smacked him in the head with a wooden spoon. “Ow,” he yelped, rubbing his head. “You bitch.” 

“Just get baking you fucking nerd.” 

The hour passed quickly. The two of them could hear the happy screams of the children outside as they rushed to bake some cupcakes to satisfy them all. Luke's favourite kind was chocolate so Claire brought out the cacao powder, and Mitchell summoned the memories of that awful two months where he dated the pastry chef who was more in love with his homemade apple fritters than his own boyfriend. 

The icing was made quickly, and Claire abandoned Mitchell to head back to the party and help Phil distract the children. It wasn’t that hard; all Claire had to do was put out more soda and chips, then get some games going. Mitchell, on the other hand, was stuck inside, slaving over an oven for the better part of two hours. 

He scooped some batter into the cupcake wrappers, mumbling angrily to himself. The door opened and someone stepped in, closing the glass doors. Mitchell looked up, and Fizbo was in the entrance, shaking off his oversized shoes, looking tired. 

“Hey,” Mitchell said awkwardly, not expecting to see him. He looked around frantically, but Haley and Alex were gone, probably upstairs in their room. He was alone with the clown. Jesus fuck. This was how horror movies started. 

“Why hello Mr…..?” the clown trailed off, walking into the kitchen. His floppy shoes made sounds on the tile that filled the house. Mitchell went back to the cupcakes, keeping his eyes steady. He still needed to make three more batches and ice them before the kids grew angry. 

“Pritchett,” he eventually said, not looking up. The kitchen chair skidded across the floor, and Fizbo collapsed on it. He breathed a sigh of relief, and Mitchell snuck a quick look. The clown was clearly tired, not used to Luke's spirited behaviour. 

“Mr Pritchett. You’ve got a lovely nephew out there,” the clown laughed. 

“Thank you,” Mitchell said, smiling politely at the clown. The room was quiet, and Mitchell hated awkward pauses. “Are you almost finished here?” he asked, putting the muffin tin into the oven. 

“Still got a half an hour left,” the clown replied, and Mitchell started on the second pan of cupcakes. “Mrs. Dunphy said I could take a small break while the kids are playing with the pinata.” 

Mitchell looked out through the glass doors to see Luke ruthlessly attack a colourful donkey with a metal bat, screaming. He cringed, wondering if Claire should take the kid to see a doctor. He was never that violent as a child. 

“What are you doing here Mr Pritchett?” the clown asked, sounding curious. 

“First of all, please don't call me Mr Pritchett, that’s my name at work,” Mitchell said, awkwardly laughing. “Call me Mitchell. And I’m just making cupcakes for the party because the ones we ordered got into a little accident.” 

“A man who is respectful and bakes? Never thought I’d see the day,” Fizbo joked. 

“Ha ha, yeah.” 

Mitchell put the new baking pan aside so they were ready when he took the others from the oven. He contemplated going over to the door and calling for Claire so she could ice them, but he knew he would probably end up doing it instead. “I learned how from my…” he trailed off, “friend,” he amended after a few seconds. 

Okay, sue him. So what if he didn’t want to reveal he was gay to every single person he ever met? It wasn’t something that he went announcing all over the place. Plus, after that disastrous accident with the waiter a few weeks ago, Mitchell wasn’t ready to relive something like that ever again. 

“Well, it’s certainly kind of you to volunteer for this” 

“Volunteer?” Mitchell snorted, mixing some batter in a bowl. “Yeah right. I was forced. My sister can be terrifying when she wants to be.” 

“I can see that,” the clown laughed. Mitchell glanced at him again, then back down. He wondered why anyone would willingly become a clown. He didn’t think he had the courage to stand in front of a bunch of children and embarrass himself. 

Plus, he wouldn’t look good in one of those outfits no matter how hard he tried. Some things he just couldn’t pull off. 

Silence filled the house. Mitchell placed wax paper cups into the muffin tins one at a time, wondering where Claire was. The timer went off in the oven, and Mitchell was glad to have a distraction from the stifling silence. He put on the oven mitts and took out the cupcakes, revealing perfect shapes. He set them down and took them out of the cups to cool for a few minutes before they would ice them. That way, the icing wouldn’t melt with the heat. 

“Those smell delicious,” Fizbo said, and with a start, Mitchell realised he had wandered over and was directly across from him on the other side of the counter. He stiffened slightly, still slightly unnerved by clowns in general, but Fizbo wasn’t looking at him, but rather the large, pink bows on the apron. 

“That looks nice on you,” Fizbo said, “Green really brings out your eyes.” 

“Christ, Claire was right,” Mitchell mumbled, before realising the clown had given him a compliment, and Mitchell prided himself on being the politest one in his family. “Thank you, my mom made it for my sister,” he said, then mentally cursed himself. If you’re trying not to appear gay, that was the last thing you said to another clearly gay man. 

Fizbo nodded, then brightened like he had just gotten an amazing idea, and began rummaging through his coat pockets. Mitchell watched him curiously, putting the new batch into the oven. 

“Now, we aren’t usually supposed to do this, we can’t break character,” Fizbo said, writing something done on a piece of paper. “But you’re cute and very obviously not straight, so here’s my number. You can call me at any time.” 

Mitchells mind blanked. The clown was flirting with him. Fizbo was flirting with him. He was being flirted with by a clown. Holy fuck. 

“Uh,” he said, hands still. Fizbo passed the paper over the counter into the front pocket on the apron, winked, then walked away, back into the party. Mitchell was still for a few more seconds, then looked down. 

“It was the apron huh?” he muttered, looking at the bright pink bows that seemed to mock him. He took the paper out and almost threw it away, then changed his mind and instead kept it on the counter. 

Claire came in a few minutes later, looking frantic. “Are the cupcakes done?” she cried, covered in water, sweat, and what looked like some silly string. Mitchell looked her up and down. 

“You look horrible,” he said, still reeling from what Fizbo did, not being able to form a more gentler statement. Claire glared at him. 

“Thanks tips, don’t you think I know that?” She racked a hand through her hair, messing it up further. “Look, the kids are getting antsy, and we need cupcakes now.” 

Mitchell showed her the cooling rack on cupcakes, and the bowl of icing. He raised an eyebrow at her. She snatched the bowl from his hands with a snarl, and started icing the cupcakes. They worked in silence, and the oven went off a few minutes later. Claire grabbed them from the oven and started icing them, not letting them cool this time, too desperate to get them to the kids. 

Together they were able to get forty-eight cupcakes baked. Claire brought them out, icing dripping onto the pan, and the kids ran towards them happily. None of them seemed to care they were lopsided or didn’t have much icing, instead devouring at speeds Mitchell could barely believe. 

Minutes later the sugar set in. Mitchell nearly cried when some kid pushed him down into the mud, getting his new expensive suit dirty. The rest of the kids were running around the yard, playing some complicated game of cops and robbers. The parents watched nervously as their children nearly tore each other apart. Claire and Mitchell watched the chaos covered in water, mud, and other unrecognisable substances. 

Soon Fizbo approached Claire, gesturing for her to come inside for payment, not letting the kids see the transaction. Mitchell suddenly felt self conscience with his dirty suit, but Fizbo barely seemed to notice, instead waving goodbye. Mitchell didn’t wave back, pretending not to notice by drinking some water. When he lowered the bottle, Fizbo and Claire were gone. 

A fucking clown was flirting with him and gave him his number. Of course he’d be slightly uncomfortable. Weren’t they supposed to bring smiles and joys to children, or some shit? Not flirt with their employer's gay brother. 

Now that Fizbo had left, the party started fizzling out. Parents began taking their children home, already crashing from the sugar. Luke was in the bushes looking sick, and Mitchell had to carry him because Claire was busy saying her goodbyes to the other parents. He brought Luke inside, laid him on the couch, then went back outside to help Claire. 

Eventually the yard was empty again. It was covered in soda, silly string, pop balloons, and food. The table was tipped over and dripping leftover cupcakes, and toys were strewn across, seemingly everywhere. Claire, Mitchell, and Phil looked it over with distaste and growing horror. 

“We’ll deal with it tomorrow,” Claire said at last, tugging her husband into the house. Mitchell followed them, ready to relax for the first time in hours. 

* * *

It was past midnight, and the kids were fast asleep in their rooms. Luke was tired from his party and Phil had put him to bed, before falling asleep himself, worn out from avoiding Fizbo all day. Mitchell and Claire, however, stayed up, and Claire opened a bottle of wine to celebrate getting through the day mostly unscathed (Mitchell had a small scratch on his elbow from when the kids pushed him down). They cleaned up the baking mess, drinking alcohol from glasses, and gossiping. Once the mess was cleaned up, they went to the table, not willing to go to sleep just yet. 

“I don’t get it Claire,” Mitchell said, sipping the wine. “Why is this city's gay dating pool so small? It’s all white twinks and closeted teenagers nowadays. I just want someone who is my age, who has a good job, who will be normal.” 

Claire nodded sympathetically, just a little tipsy. “What happened to the guy dad freaked out about?” 

“I broke up with him. He still hasn’t stopped calling me, I’m going to have to block his number.” 

Claire hummed in understanding. “I get it. When I was in high school I dated this guy who refused to leave me alone after I ended it. Dad ended up having to kick him from our property and he never came back again.” 

“I remember him,” Mitchell exclaimed, snapping his fingers, trying to recall the name. “Brown hair, nice body, weird sense of humour? His name was Jack right?” 

“That’s the bitch.” 

Claire emptied her glass, then refilled it to the brim, and Mitchell raised his eyebrows. She stuck her tongue at him, and he looked away. “You just need dad to yell at this man,” Claire suggested. “He won’t bother you again, trust me.” 

“I’m not going to dad and asking him to scream at my ex-boyfriend Claire,” Mitchell said, then paused, and looked around. “Where do you think dad is anyway? Do you think he and mom stopped-” 

“Please don’t say another word, I’m trying not to think about it,” Claire said, silencing him, and Mitchell rolled his eyes. Jay and Dede probably found a hotel room and were staying together for the night. Sometimes he wondered if they really had divorced, or if it was just a meaningless piece of paper. 

“I don’t think dad yelling at someone is going to solve the problem, I just need to get back out there again.” Mitchell set down his glass. “If he sees me with someone else, then he’ll leave me alone.” 

“Oh, oh, oh,” Claire exclaimed, like she had just gotten an idea. “Why don’t you let me set you up. I love you Mitch, but you need to get laid.” 

Mitchell nearly spat out his wine at her bold pronunciation, and tried not to think about how true it was. He hadn’t been on a date since he broke up with the last guy while Jay yelled at him in the background. “I know this amazing gay guy from my book club, I think you’ll know him.” 

“Yes Claire, because all gay guys know each other,” Mitchell muttered, sipping his wine. 

“His name is Tristan. He has blond hair and likes soccer.” 

“I know him,” Mitchell said excitedly, then rolled his eyes at his sister's knowing look. “That doesn’t prove anything, I only know him because Pepper has tried to date him multiple times. Besides he’s a prick. I’m not going out with him no matter how hot he is.” 

“Okay, I’ll find someone else. Please let me try,” Claire begged, grabbing his hand. “If you don’t like any of them, we can stop.” 

Mitchell looked at her, then sighed, giving in. He knew Claire would just pester him until he agreed anyway, this way was easier. She would get bored after a few weeks, then give up, and Mitchell would be free. 

Besides, maybe he actually would meet someone. 

“Fine. But if anyone asks for a threesome with his girlfriend, I’m quitting.” 

“Yes! You won’t regret this, I promise,” Claire said, hugging him. Mitchell awkwardly patted her back, before pulling away. “We’re going to have so much fun,” she laughed, almost like she was sixteen again. 

“Yeah. Fun,” Mitchell muttered, then remembered something. “Speaking of dating, guess what happened today?” 

Claire sat up happily, desperate for new gossip and Mitchell grinned at her. He always loved Claire's insistence on knowing every piece of gossip, and he was glad he had a sister who loved to talk with him. He got up and went to the counter, looking for the paper Fizbo gave him earlier that day. He found it next to the apples and he brought it over to Claire, who looked at it curiously. 

“What’s this?” 

“This is something Fizbo gave me.” 

Claire looked at him weird, and took it from his hands, unfolding it. “The clown gave you his number?” 

Mitchell crossed his legs. “Yep, and he said the apron looked good on me. I don’t know about you, but that’s kinda gay.” 

“Oh my God,” Claire yelled, throwing the paper on the table. “Is that how all gay people flirt? Oh yeah, I like your style, wanna date me?” 

“We’re usually much better,” Mitchell defended, picking up the paper. He hadn’t gotten the chance to look at it before, and now he inspected it carefully. Fizbo had written his number and a little happy face with a clown nose and wig. It was weird, but kinda cute in a way. 

He shook his head. He knew he just did not think of Fizbo as cute. He threw that thought away, shoving it down deep inside him. 

“You’re not thinking of calling him are you?” Claire asked, sipping more wine. “Because you can do so much better than that Mitchell, even dad would agree with me.” 

“I know, I’m just looking,” Mitchell defended, crumpling the paper in his hands, almost as a sign of defiance. He dropped the paper on the floor, and Claire looked at it distastefully. 

“Just going to make me clean it up, huh?” 

“You can deal,” Mitchell replied, before looking at his watch. He sighed loudly. “Fuck, I have work tomorrow for my boss. Not even getting paid by the bastard,” he complained. 

Claire shrugged and raised her glass. “Learn to say no,” she suggested. “It’s an easy enough concept, they’re teaching it in high school health classes now.” 

“Hilarious,” Mitchell muttered deadpan, then stood up and grabbed his suit jacket from the kitchen table. “I hope you have fun cleaning up your yard alone.” 

“I won’t be alone, I’ll have Phil.” 

“You’re delusional if you think Phil will help you after all the cool things Luke got for his birthday,” Mitchell said, pointing to the at home mini golf set on the table. Claire gulped, realising Phil and Luke would probably spend the next day doing nothing. Mitchell grinned smugly at her, before leaving the room, ready to sleep. 

* * *

The phone rang, echoing through the tiny apartment, and Mitchell groggily lifted his head to glare at it. He slowly reached out and picked it up, glancing at the time. It was 6:05 am, still twenty-five minutes before he had to be awake to get to work.

“Hello,” he slurred into the phone, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, and trying to sound more awake than he actually was. He didn’t know how good of a job he was doing, but figured it was good enough. 

“Hey uncle,” Haley said from the other end, and Mitchell sat up, wondering why she would be calling so early in the morning. He bit his lip, hoping the pain would wake him up more. 

“Hey sweetie,” he said. “Why are you calling so early?” 

Through the tiny walls of his apartment he could hear the next door neighbours fighting again, their screeching echoing through the entire building. He rolled his eyes, knowing this fight usually happened once everyday. 

“Mom said that if she had to be awake at this hour to clean, everyone else does as well,” Haley complained, and Mitchell rolled his eyes again. 

“That sounds like Claire alright,” he muttered, and Haley laughed. “Is there a reason you called?” Mitchell asked. 

“Actually yeah. Mom said to tell you that she found you a date and that you should be ready to leave at 6 pm tonight to meet at the Patina Restaurant. His name is Kayden Belthrope. I don’t know what that means, but she said it was important that I tell you.” 

“What?” Mitchell yelled, sitting up straight, the blankets falling off of him. He suddenly felt awake, consumed by the terror of Claire actually following through with her promise. “How did she find someone so quickly?” 

“I don’t know what’s going on,” Haley said, sounding bored, “But that’s what mom told me to tell you.” 

“Haley sweetie, where is your mom?” Mitchell asked desperately, trying to keep his voice soft and sweet for his niece. He was going to kill Claire when he saw her next. “It’s very important that I talk to her.” 

“Mom’s yelling at Luke,” Haley said, and then a crash was heard through the phone. 

“Oh my God,” Haley yelled from far away. “I have to go Uncle Mitch, but make sure to wear something nice, okay, love you, bye.” The phone was hung up, and Mitchell was left with silence. 

“Son of a bitch,” Mitchell groaned. 

* * *

“So Kayden, what do you do for fun?” Mitchell asked, sipping some wine, trying to be polite. He sat across from a tan, muscular man who was currently tearing into a giant steak. The steak was practically raw, bleeding red juice. Mitchell watched him with growing disgust, and vowed to kill Claire when he saw her next. 

From the very second he had met Kayden, he wanted to leave. The man was loud, egotistical, and hopped up on way too many protein shakes. The man practically towered over Mitchell, and all Mitchell had wanted to do for the last hour was run far away, and beat up his sister for making him go on this stupid date. His day was already hell thanks to his boss, he didn’t need it to be made worse by some asshole who didn’t know when to shut the fuck up. 

“I go biking, I go skiing, and I go running,” Kayden said, wiping some sauce from his face. Mitchell rolled his eyes. Of course he did. Kayden didn’t notice, too preoccupied with his meal to pay attention to his date. “What about you Mitch?” 

“Well, I like the theatre-” 

“Oh my God, the theatre. Why does every gay man I meet mention the theatre? It’s just a bunch of people singing on stage, it’s not that special,” Kayden complained. He leaned forward. “Let me take you up into the mountains, we can go backpacking up the trails. See some trees, rivers, rocks. I can teach you how to fish, hunt some deer, and uh,” he winked discreetly, “other stuff.” 

In order to prevent himself from saying something he might regret later, Mitchell took another big sip of his wine. He took it back; he wasn’t going to kill Claire, he was going to fucking torture her. How dare she put him through this, this was already taking the spot for the second worst date ever on Mitchell's long list of fucked up dates. 

“As much as I would love to do that,” Mitchell said when he had drunk what was in his glass and there was nothing else to do, knowing that there was a long list of things he would rather do than spend some alone time with the man, “I’m afraid I can’t. Too busy with work.” 

“Ah work,” Kayden waved him off. “I don’t work. I figured, why spend my entire life working at some dead end job I’ll regret for my entire life, why not focus on me and my health. To this day, it’s the best decision I’ve ever made. That, and the plastic surgery.” 

“I’m sorry, but how did you pay for plastic surgery?” Mitchell asked, confused. “Isn’t that really expensive?” 

“Don’t ask questions,” Kayden said, suddenly serious, and Mitchell looked down at his half eaten meal awkwardly. It was silent as Kayden did some breathing, apparently trying to calm himself down. 

“Do you think I should get some more wine?” Mitchell asked, pointing at his empty glass. He didn’t wait for an answer. “I want some more wine. I’m getting more wine.” 

He grabbed the bottle from the ice bucket and poured it into his glass right to the brim. He needed it if he was going to get through the night without killing the man in front of him. Or himself. It was a 50/50 chance at that point. 

“Wine? Pssh, I only drink whisky, the drink of men!” Kayden yelled, slamming his glass down on the table harshly. Mitchell could feel the eyes of every patron on them, and he placed his head on his hand, trying to cover his face. 

So he was going to torture, then kill Claire. Sounded like a plan to him. 

* * *

“Claire, I hate you,” Mitchell yelled, slamming the door to his sister's house. He roughly tore off his shoes and threw them to the side, ready to kill his sister. “I hate you and I hope you fall off a cliff and die.” 

“What’s wrong?” Alex asked, climbing down the stairs. She looked worryingly at Mitchell and pushed up her glasses. 

“I don’t want to talk about it,” he said pleasantly to her, trying to appear calm, like he always was, then continued his rampage through the house, leaving the middle Dunphy child behind on the staircase. 

“Do you want to know what happened Claire?” 

He ran into the kitchen, and found it empty, then turned around back through the hall. “He spent the entire date talking about his amazing life without work, threatened me with bodily harm if I ever asked about his money, and then he forced me to pay for the meal. And then after, he tried to kiss me as if the date had gone well in the first place. First date hookups are for dreamers and those who want to get laid, and I’m not that desperate yet.”

He walked into the living room and paused in his ranting. Jay was sitting on the couch, Claire next to him, looking at him with matching weird expressions. Mitchell reigned in his anger, knowing that yelling at Claire with his dad in the same room wouldn’t end well for him. 

“Dad,” Mitchell said, trying to sound excited. He smiled politely. “How are you? What are you doing here?” 

“Claire needed some moral support dealing with her kids, but after what I just heard, I don’t think she’s the only one who needs support.” 

“Thanks dad,” Mitchell said sarcastically, then collapsed on the couch with a sigh. He closed his eyes and tried to do some breathing exercise his yoga couch gave him. Of course the first time seeing his dad after their fight would be him going crazy at Claire for a failed date. Though past experience told him Jay wouldn’t want to talk about what happened between them, and Mitchell was glad. 

“I take it the date didn’t go so well?” Claire asked. 

“What do you think? This is the last time I trust you to find someone for me.” 

“What’s going on?” Jay asked, looking back and forth between them curiously. Mitchell looked at Claire and shook his head no, silently begging her not to tell Jay. Jay wouldn’t be able to let it go, giving him free ammunition for at least a month. Claire rolled her eyes at him, and leaned towards her dad. Mitchell groaned, and slapped his forehead. 

“Mitchell is having trouble dating, so I tried to set him up with someone, and apparently it didn’t go well.” 

“Didn’t go well? Claire, he called me a twink,” Mitchell interrupted, “Do I look like a twink to you? Was he even gay?” 

Claire looked him up and down. “I don’t know what a twink is,” she said, and Mitchell sighed, rolling his eyes. 

“All you need to know is that I’m not one, and Kayden is an idiot.” 

“Okay, everyone calm down,” Jay said, getting up and standing in front of them, hands on his hips. “Mitchell, whatever happened to traditional dating? Go out there, court someone naturally. Bring some flowers, chocolates, write some notes, actually talk to someone. Not ask your sister to find someone in her little clubs.” 

“Traditional dating is built on the foundation of women being inferior to men, and men having to do all the work, and it’s something that will die with your generation,” Mitchell said, and Jay scoffed. “And I’m gay. That right there takes traditional dating right off the plate.” 

“Only if you let it,” Jay said, sitting back down on the different seat across from them. Claire and Mitchell moved closer on the couch, like they did when they were kids and Jay would yell at them for some dumb stunt Claire made them do. 

“So what do you suggest I do dad?” Mitchell asked. Jay shrugged. 

“I don’t know, approach hot guy, ask him out-” 

“Get punched by hot guy because he’s also homophobic and hates gays.” 

Jay thought for a second, before leaning forward. “Why don’t you wear a little rainbow bracelet showing you’re gay? Then everyone will know you’re not homophobic.” 

“After that date I’m not so sure,” Mitchell muttered under his breath, and Claire elbowed him. ”Well dad,” Mitchell said louder. “I’ll get beat up for wearing the rainbow instead.” 

“Jesus Christ Mitchell, can’t you fight back?” 

“So your suggestion to getting beat up by homophobic assholes is to punch them back? Even when there are ten of them and one of me? You want me to punch them?” 

“Sure. Did I ever tell you about that time when I was a young man and this group of men stole my-” 

“I think we’re getting sidetracked,” Claire interrupted, and both men turned to look at her. “Mitchell, I’ll find someone else for you, and this time, you can approve him beforehand.” Mitchell sighed, then nodded his head in agreement. Claire turned to Jay. 

“Dad, violence isn’t always the answer.” 

“Thank you,” Mitchell said. 

“But Mitchell,” Claire continued, and Mitchell looked at her in betrayal. “You do need to learn how to defend yourself. To this day, you’ve never beaten me in a fight.” 

“You’ve never beaten a girl in a fight? Come on little miss, didn’t I teach you anything,” Jay teased, and Mitchell rolled his eyes. 

“Hilarious.” He got up and glared at the two of them. “Thanks a lot you two, thank you so much for your amazing advice. I’m going home now,” he yelled, walking out of the room. 

“Make sure you’re ready for your date next week,” Claire cried after his back, “Same place, same time.” 

“Fuck you,” Mitchell yelled over his shoulder as he left the house. As he shut the door, he could still hear Jay and Claire laughing. 

* * *

It was Easter weekend, and the entire family was crowded into a park. Jay had brought out the barbecue, and was cooking steaks with Frank and Phil, arguing loudly about what was the right way to do them. Dede was talking with Haley and Alex, which Mitchell was glad for, and Luke was running around, chasing butterflies. Mitchell and Claire were by the picnic table, talking. Other families surrounded them, their children chasing after each other, Luke joining them. 

“This is pretty good Dunphy,” Mitchell said, watching it all happen. The weather was warm, and the skies were blue. Puffy clouds floated in the sky, and the air was filled with flowery perfume. He took a deep breath and sighed in contentment. He just had a hectic week at work, and was glad for a chance to relax with his family. 

“It took me weeks to plan,” Claire complained, unwrapping a salad bowl. “I don’t have anything else to do at home, so I had plenty of time to make sure it was perfect.” 

Mitchell looked her up and down, taking in her exhausted eyes, and messy clothes. “Girl, you need a night out,” he said, and Claire sighed, head slumping down in defeat. 

“I do,” she whined. “Do you think your gay friends would mind if I tagged along one day, or is it a strictly a gays only thing?” 

Mitchell thought about it. “You can probably come. None of them will hit on you though. You know, with the whole being gay thing.” 

“I can live with that,” Claire said, setting out some plates. “I just need a night away from the kids and Phil. I love Phil, but his idea of a good time is heading to see a fucking magic show.” 

Mitchell cringed just thinking about it. “Don’t worry, I’ll take you to this amazing club. Do you mind getting hit on by lesbians?” 

“As long as they know I’m married and devoted to someone else, I could care less.” 

“Sounds like a plan,” Mitchell said. He watched Jay flip some hamburger patties, Frank and Phil clapping loudly. Even from far away, Mitchell could see the way Jay rolled his eyes at their childish excitement. “I still can’t believe you got all the other parents to agree to this.” 

“It wasn’t easy,” Claire complained, then leaned over, sharing some gossip. Mitchell tilted his head eagerly. “Beth refused to bring the potato salad after what happened last year, and I had to do some major convincing to get Ann to apologise.” 

“Jesus,” Mitchell replied. “That would have been hell.” 

“Yeah,” Claire said, nodding her head. “But it was worth it. We all have our families here, the children can play with each other, the adults don’t have to interact, it's all good.” She went over to the cooler and pulled out a giant bin of pre-cut watermelon. “We even got some fun activities planned for the kids.” 

“Like what?” 

“Well, we brought some beanbags, some of the parents are hiding some eggs in the trails as we speak for an easter egg hunt after lunch, and I’ve hired Fizbo again.”

Claire checked her watch, then groaned. “It’s almost lunchtime.” 

She left the snack table, heading over to Jay. “Hey dad, are you almost done?” 

Mitchell had to reboot himself before he was able to talk again, his mind running miles per minute. “Claire wait up,” he yelled, racing after her as she walked across the field. “You hired Fizbo?” 

“Luke really liked him, and I did too. I thought the kids would enjoy having some entertainment after the egg hunt.” 

Mitchell grabbed her arm, preventing Claire from walking forward, spinning her around. Claire whirled, looking at him unimpressed. “You hired Fizbo, even after the indecent way he behaved towards me last time?” 

“As far as I’m concerned, the only indecent thing that happened was he thought you were attractive, complimented you, and gave you his number.” 

“You’re not supposed to fraternise with people at kids birthday parties Claire,” Mitchell said hysterically. Claire gave him an odd look. 

“It doesn’t matter what he thought about you Mitchell, you don’t even like him.” 

“Well yeah,” Mitchell said, picking at a loose thread on his shirt, not meeting Claire's eyes. “But it’s still weird.” 

“Look,” Claire replied, patting him on the shoulder. “Just stay out of his way. Give out some cookies, don’t talk to him. It’ll be fine, trust me.” 

“The way I trusted you to find me a normal date?” 

“Get over it already,” Claire yelled, walking away from him towards Jay. Mitchell was left standing in the middle of the field by himself. 

“He asked to see my feet Claire,” Mitchell yelled after her, then noticed the five year girl standing next to him. 

“Uhh,” he stuttered, before turning away, muttering to himself. He walked back to the snack table, and started taking out more vegetable platters, not that the kids would even look at them. 

He couldn’t believe Claire had hired Fizbo again. It was going to be so awkward. Mitchell hated awkward situations. How was he supposed to act? Behave? God, he hated Claire sometimes. He wished she wasn’t his sister, most of his problems were her fault. 

He could see Claire and Jay making their way back to the table, Jay holding a plate of hot dogs and hamburgers. They were fresh from the grill, still steaming. 

“Those look good,” he said, pointing to the plate as Jay finally came close enough to place it on the table. 

“Thanks,” Jay responded, setting them down. “Mr Dunphy over there kept saying I was doing them wrong.” He pointed over to where Phil and Frank had wandered away, chasing after Luke and Haley. Alex was watching the chaos happen, cheering on Phil, which only egged him on. 

“What does he know?” Mitchell replied, and Jay smiled at his son, something that rarely happened. Mitchell felt a burst of brief, unexplainable pride, then hated himself for it. 

God, he really needed to get over those daddy issues, holy fuck. 

“Come on dad, he was just trying to help,” Claire said, putting out the ketchup, mustard, and relish bottles, getting ready for lunch. “You didn’t need to be rude.”

“The man suggested flipping them three times Claire, I’m not taking advice from someone who was a cheerleader in college.” 

“Got to say, I’m on dad's side this time,” Mitchell butt in. Claire looked at him in betrayal, throwing up her arms. “Remember the meals dad would make us as children? Phil has nothing on him.” 

“Just because you’re pissed at me doesn’t mean you have to take dad's side you know,” Claire accused. Mitchell shrugged, trying to appear as innocent as he could. 

“Wait, what did I miss?” Jay asked, looking lost. 

“It doesn’t matter,” Mitchell said. “I was just about to go get the kids ready for lunch anyway.” He walked away from the table towards the group of kids in the middle of the field, ready to tell them to come over. He looked over his shoulder at the table, and saw Claire walk away, Jay left clueless. 

Getting the kids together and at the table was a challenge, but eventually Mitchell pulled it off. The kids dug into the food, the parents watching from around them. A few minutes later some parents emerged from the woods, just finishing hiding the eggs, but the kids barely noticed. Luke tried to turn the ketchup bottle into a ketchup gun, and Claire had to wrestle it away from him before he sprayed his friends. 

“Okay kids,” Claire yelled, clapping her hands once lunch was over and the food nearly gone. “We have a surprise for you. The Easter bunny visited while you guys were eating, and he hid some eggs in the woods for you to find.” Her voice was high pitched and full of fake joy, the way adults talked to kids. 

The kids cheered, and Mitchell could see Alex and Haley roll their eyes, clearly already let in on the secret of the real Easter bunny. It made me slightly sad, realising they were growing up. 

“Now why don’t you guys go get your baskets, and go meet by the trail okay?” The kids ran off, heading back to their parents to retrieve their buckets for the hunt. Claire walked over to Mitchell, who was staying out of the way of the kids. Mitchell pointedly looked away when she came, not meeting her eyes. 

“I’m not talking to you.” 

“Look, I know you’re mad at me, but I need you to go with the girls,” she said, grabbing his shoulder. “Phil and Frank are going off with Luke and his friends, and I don’t trust Alex and Haley to be by themselves.” 

“Why don’t you go with them?” Mitchell asked bitterly. 

“Because I’m staying behind to wait for Fizbo, unless you want to do that instead,” Claire replied, crossing her arms. Mitchell observed her for a few seconds, before sighing. 

“I’ll go find them,” he muttered, and Claire laughed, patting his head. Mitchell contemplated kicking her, but thought that maybe that wouldn’t go over so well, so he contented himself in just slapping her hand away. Claire raised an eyebrow, then shooed him away. Mitchell raised the middle finger, not looking back, and he heard his sister laugh. 

He found his nieces fairly quickly, waiting by the trails with their baskets. “I know this isn't real,” Alex was saying as he approached. “But I just want some candy.” 

“Just don’t say anything to the kids,” Haley replied, clutching her bright pink basket. It was covered in bows and glitter, most likely a school project Claire had forced Haley to bring along. “Mom will kill you.” 

“I’m not stupid Haley,” Alex scoffed, and Mitchell could see how close to a fight they were. He quickly got between them, placing a hand on each shoulder, knowing full well how the two girls got when they were mad at each other. 

“Now girls, no fighting today, it’s Easter.” 

“Hey uncle Mitch,” they said in chorus, looking up at him. 

“I’m supposed to help you find some eggs today.” 

“Thanks for the help,” Alex said, “But we won’t be needing it. Haley knows of this secret place where the adults hide the most eggs.” 

“Don’t tell him,” Haley yelled, grabbing Alex's arm, and Alex tugged it away from her. Mitchell laughed at their antics, remembering how he and Claire used to be. 

“I won’t tell anyone, I need to get out of here anyway.” 

“Why?” Haley asked. 

“Uh,” Mitchell stammered. He wondered how he was going to explain to two little girls that a clown that Mitchell was in no way attracted to was heading to the party, when one of the adults started chanting, counting down the seconds until they could go.

“I’ll tell you later,” he promised, not meaning it, turning towards the trail where all the children were getting ready to run into. Alex and Haley did the same, getting ready. 

“Three, two, one,” they counted down, and suddenly every child ran forward, heading down the same path. Haley waited until everyone was gone, then tugged Alex and Mitchell through the bushes into a smaller, hidden path. They walked down for it for a few minutes, sharing gossip. Haley talked about her friends who swore one of the ninth graders was pregnant, and Mitchell told them about his co worker who always was late to work, getting there covered in some sort of drink. It was strangely enjoyable spending time with his nieces. 

At last they found the secret place Haley was talking about. It was covered in a bunch of eggs and Alex and Haley grabbed them all, stuffing them into their baskets. They turned around, heading back through the path onto a second one. They found some more eggs, but the amount was waning as other children took them, their screams echoing through the trails. 

A large horn blew, signalling the hunt was over. Haley and Alex groaned, trudging back to the picnic area. The other kids began to empty from the woods, showing off their overflowing baskets to fearful parents, already thinking about the sugar highs they would have to endure from their children. 

Mitchell looked across the field and saw Fizbo talking to Claire. Apparently the clown had gotten there a few minutes early. A few feet away, Luke noticed the clown and started running towards him happily. Mitchell rolled his eyes, then brushed out his shirt. He didn’t know why he was so nervous, Fizbo probably didn’t even remember him. And if he did, it wasn’t like Mitchell was doing anything with him. He straightened up, and started walking towards them with his nieces, trying to appear brave. 

“Mom, look how many eggs we got,” Haley yelled, and Claire and Fizbo turned towards them. Luke was already there, looking up at Fizbo excitedly. 

“That’s amazing girls,” Claire said, leaning down to see what they got. Mitchell watched Claire sift through their baskets, pointedly not looking up at Fizbo. It wasn’t because Mitchell was embarrassed. He just didn’t think children entertainers should break character to flirt with a gay uncle. That should be an official rule of the clown rulebook in his humble opinion. 

“Girls, you weren’t able to meet him last time, but this is Fizbo. He will be performing here today.” Claire straightened out, and moved aside so the girls could see Fizbo. 

Haley and Alex waved awkwardly, and Fizbo waved back. “Hey, what’s your name?” Fizbo asked, looking at them. 

Both girls introduced themselves and Fizbo made them each a balloon animal, then one for Luke. The girls indulged him, clearly feeling like they were too old for clowns, then thanked him politely when he handed back their animals. The kids ran off with their baskets and balloons, ready to play with their friends. 

“Ah kids,” Claire sighed, and Fizbo laughed. 

“I love them. They’re so joyful,” Fizbo said, and Mitchell rolled his eyes. He tried to disguise it when he noticed Fizbo looking at him, not wanting to appear rude. Claire said he had a problem with that. 

“Mr Green Apron, how are you?” Fizbo asked, and from beside him, Claire snorted, trying to hide her laughter. 

“Fuck,” Mitchell whispered. 

“Would you prefer Mitchell instead?” the clown asked, and Mitchell nodded. Anything was better than Green Apron. 

“Yes please.” 

“Well Mitchell, what kind of animal would you like?” Fizbo held out some balloon options, blue, green, and pink towards Mitchell, trying to get him to choose one. 

“Oh, no thank you,” Mitchell said, waving his hands around, thinking of a way to decline politely without saying no outright. “Save those for the kids.” 

“It’s no trouble, I got extra boxes in my car,” Fizbo responded, shoving the balloons closer to him. Mitchell resisted stepping away, hating the way the clown seemed to invade his personal space. “Pick a colour and an animal.” 

“I really shouldn’t.” 

“Come on Mitch, don’t be such a spoiler sport,” Claire laughed. “Just do it.” Mitchell glared at her, hatred in his eyes, and she smirked at him, knowing full well what she was doing. Sometimes Mitchell wished he was an only child. 

“Pink and a pig,” Mitchell muttered, giving in, and the clown grabbed a pink balloon, then blew it up. He tied it off, then started twisting it into a shape. The plastic made loud grinding noises, and Mitchell grit his teeth, his ears bleeding. 

A scream echoed through the field and Claire turned her head towards the sound. Luke was being chased by Alex and Haley, while his friends followed them, trying to save their friend. Claire sighed in disappointment. 

“I’ll be back in a second to show you where you can set up. I got to go deal with my kids,” she said to Fizbo, before turning away. 

“Oh don’t worry about that,” Fizbo said, almost finishing the balloon animal. “I can set up anywhere, don’t bother.” 

“Got it,” Claire yelled, not looking back as she ran forward, trying to stop them from attacking each other any further. Mitchell was left alone with Fizbo, and he hated Claire with every fibre of his being. 

“All finished,” Fizbo exclaimed, shoving the animal into Mitchell's hands. He smiled at the animal in Mitchells arms. “Some of my finest work right there.” 

“It’s a balloon animal,” Mitchell stated. 

“It’s art,” Fizbo replied. Mitchell had to look away to avoid offending a clown with his eye rolling. 

“Well, I better start setting up now,” Fizbo said, looking towards the field, like an artist looking at his blank canvas. “I’ll see you later.” 

“Yeah,” Mitchell said, promising himself he would stay close to Jay for the rest of day. He couldn’t trust Claire to keep him safe. Sure, Jay would probably end up making some kind of borderline homophobic comment before the day was up, but Mitchell was used to that. At least Jay wouldn’t abandon him. 

“Have fun,” Fizbo said. He made the motion of turning around, then stopped. “And may I just say those jeans look mighty fine on you. They make your legs look really nice.” 

He waved, then started moving, his oversized shoes flopping on the ground. He picked up some bags by the table with a strength that didn’t seem natural coming from a fucking clown, then moved to start setting up. 

“Mighty fine?” Mitchell murmured, confused. “Who says that anymore?” He turned around and went to find Jay. He found the man sitting on the table with Phil, who was ruffling Lukes hair. 

Mighty fine. What the fuck?

* * *

“Claire, I swear, he called me mighty fine, and that my legs looked nice in my jeans. What the hell?” 

“Yeah, uh huh,” Claire said, sounding distracted. She was frantically looking around, tearing through the bushes, moving her head left and right. Mitchell followed her, intent on giving her the full story. 

“That’s kind of creepy right? Imagine if a clown was looking at your ass? That was what he meant by it right? If you’re looking at someone's legs, you’re looking at their ass.” 

“Yeah, creepy,” Claire murmured, turning around, shoving past Mitchell. “Where is that kid?” she muttered under her breath. 

“I mean, these aren’t even new jeans, they’re just something I threw on this morning, I could look so much better than this. But still, it’s weird that he said something.” 

“Mitchell, shut up,” Claire snapped, spinning around. Mitchell nearly bumped into her chest as he stopped. “Your biggest problem right now is that a fucking clown thinks you’re hot. Mine is that I can’t find my youngest kid, so shut the fuck up and help me look.” 

“Luke?” Mitchell asked, confused. “He went home with Jay, I thought he told you?” 

Claire was silent for a few seconds. “You mean to tell me,” she started, voice soft. “That I just spent the last twenty minutes freaking out because I thought Luke was missing, when he had just gone home with my dad?” She was full on screaming by the end of the sentence, and Mitchell looked at the ground, avoiding her eyes. 

“I mean, I guess,” he said, toeing the dirt. 

“Fuck,” Claire yelled, then started walking back to the parking lot. “Where’s Phil?” she sighed. 

“I think he’s waiting with the car,” Mitchell responded. “Anyway, I looked it up, and apparently you’re not supposed to flirt with your employers. It was rule number one. I think we should report him.” 

“Mitchell?” 

“Yeah?” 

“Shut up before I leave you behind.” 

* * *

“So what do you do?” Mitchell asked, sitting at a small table. His meal was in front of him, a steaming chicken Alfredo and a glass of wine. His date sat across from him, with a simple salad. It was 6 pm, and he was sitting at another blind date, the second one that week that Claire had set up. 

He had trusted Claire to get him a date once more. Because even though he sometimes wanted to kill her, he knew she had good taste. She had ended up with Phil after all. Even though some of her choices were questionable, he had faith in her. 

However, Mitchell was beginning to think this one was a hit and a miss. 

“I’m a doctor,” the man said, his eyes unfocused and tone deadpan. His name was Kyle, and he was the most boring person Mitchell had ever met in his life. Mitchell sipped his wine, wondering if there was something wrong with him or if he just never talked ever. 

“That sounds exciting,” Mitchell said, trying to keep the conversation going. “What did you do today?” 

“Delivered a baby.” 

Mitchell paused, waiting for Kyle to continue talking. When he didn’t, Mitchell started eating his meal in silence. Five minutes passed, each second feeling like a minute. The room was hot, and Mitchell was sweating. 

“What do you do for fun?” he asked when the silence became unbearable.

“I don’t.” 

Mitchell waited for him to elaborate. When he didn’t, Mitchell finally had enough. 

“Excuse me, I need to use the washroom,” he said, and Kyle nodded, turning his head to his meal without a word. Mitchell watched him for a few seconds, then shook his head and wandered off to find the bathroom. He found it a few feet away from the kitchen and slipped inside. 

“Claire,” he snapped, huddled in the small cubical after a few minutes. His phone was out, and he had called his sister, ready to yell at her. 

“Hey Mitch,” his sister said on the other end. “How’s it going? Are you not coming home tonight?” Mitchell could practically see her suggestive smile, and he rolled his eyes despite the fact he knew she couldn’t see it. 

“No, I’m not that easy,” he hissed. “Where did you find this guy?” 

“Not your type?” 

“Well, I actually prefer my dates to be interesting,” Mitchell whisper-yelled, trying not to disturb the people next to him. 

“He’s rich though,” Claire said. “He’s a doctor.” 

“Is that what you think of me? Some kind of gold digger?” 

“Your words, not mine.” 

Mitchell sighed, banging his head on the stall door. “I’m not finishing this. I’m telling him I have some kind of emergency and getting out. Maybe something like dad’s in the hospital or one of my nieces got a head injury.” 

“Are you sure?” 

“Yes I’m sure. If I have to spend one more second with this person, I might actually snap.” 

“Okay, I’ll see soon,” Claire said, then hung up, leaving Mitchell in silence. He brushed himself off, took a deep breath, then left the stall, heading back out to his date. Kyle had barely moved, and his plate was mostly uneaten. Mitchell wondered how such an unresponsive man had become a doctor. 

“I’m sorry, but an emergency just came up. I need to go,” Mitchell said apologetically, grabbing his coat. He set down some money for his half of the bill, and grabbed his stuff. Kyle barely moved, just let out a small hum. Mitchell looked at him for a few seconds, then turned away and left the restaurant. 

The second he left the building he was bumped into, and he went to the side, stumbling slightly, bumping into the restaurant's wall. He landed with an oomph, scraping his palms on the rough sidewalk. 

“Oh my God, I am so sorry,” the man said, bending down to pick him up. Mitchell looked up at the man, and accepted his help. The man had brown hair and kind eyes, but he was already accompanied by someone, an older gentleman wearing what looked to be a very expensive suit. The older man tapped his food impatiently, looking down at his watch, and Mitchell already knew he was an asshole. The man reminded him of Mitchell's boss. 

“It’s fine,” Mitchell muttered, brushing some dirt from his suit. The man was silent, looking at him strangely, like he recognised Mitchell from somewhere.

“Well, thanks for helping me,” Mitchell said, stepping away after a few seconds. He had enough awkward pauses for tonight. The man shook his head, clearing his thoughts. 

“Oh, of course. Again, I’m so sorry. That's an amazing suit by the way. I love the colour.” 

“Uh, thank you,” Mitchell said. He looked at the man's clothes, an interesting combination of red, yellow, and black. “You too.” 

The man beamed, and his date tugged on his arm, signalling they should be leaving for their reservation. The man startled, then turned around, leaving Mitchell behind. 

Mitchell walked away, the man and his date entering the restaurant behind him. He went to his car, then drove away, ready for the night to be over.

* * *

“Where are you finding these people?” Mitchell ranted, Claire sitting at the kitchen table, typing something on the laptop. “I’ve only met one I actually halfway liked. And then he ended up being married with a wife and kids. Talk about a disappointment.” 

“You just have to give them a chance,” Claire said, scrolling through her laptop, not looking at him. “No one is going to be perfect. You’re just too much of a perfectionist to notice.” 

“One of them asked if I would like to do porn with him.” 

“So that wasn’t the best option, but I’m sure there’s better out there that you turned down because he didn’t fit your image of a perfect boyfriend.” 

“Another asked me to run away with him to Canada.” 

“That’s not that bad-” 

“Another asked to help him hide a body.” 

Claire stopped for a second and looked up at him worryingly. “Did you call the police?” she asked, looking nervous. 

“Of course I called the police Claire,” Mitchell yelled, throwing his hands up. “What else was I going to do, help him?”

Claire rolled her eyes, then continued typing on her screen, occasionally scrolling down, her eyes travelling over the screen. Sometimes she hummed under her breath, and whenever she did, Mitchell looked over at her hopefully, before she waved him off. 

“Oh,” Claire said eventually, turning her laptop to show him the screen. Mitchell wandered over, settling into one of the chairs to see what she was showing him. He looked it over suspiciously. On the screen was a chat box, with a picture of a good looking man in a grey suit and blond hair, with a bright smile. “What about him?” 

“He’s kinda cute,” Mitchell said slowly. He looked the man over a few times, and didn’t see anything wrong with his looks. 

“He’s the owner of a men's health magazine, and he’s really rich,” Claire continued. “If he wasn’t gay and Phil was dead, I’d be getting him, not you.”

“Nice to know I’m so replaceable,” Phil said from behind them, looking betrayed. Both Claire and Mitchell turned their heads towards him. Neither had heard him come in. He held a glass of water in his hands, and had clearly come down for something to drink. He started walking out of the kitchen, head down, not wanting to hear another word. 

“Oh no, Phil honey,” Claire said, getting up from the table to chase after him. “Continue looking,” she mouthed at Mitchell, before leaving the room, following her husband, trying to console him. Mitchell pursed his lips, then pulled the laptop towards him. 

“So his name is Tyler, he is the owner of a men's health magazine,” Mitchell muttered to himself, looking over his profile. One of Claire's PAT moms had sent it over with the message ‘ _hope your gay brother enjoys LOL ;)’._ He rolled his eyes at that. 

“He enjoys long walks on the beach, romantic vacations, and massages. Ohhh,” Mitchell said, scrolling down. “He looks nice. He might be it,” he continued. Maybe he really was the one, he certainly sounded like Mitchells dream guy. The type of guy Mitchell used to fantasise about marrying when he was younger. 

He scrolled down further, trying to find any more information. His eyes caught on something written near the bottom, and he visibly recoiled when he read it. “Oh my God,” he muttered, wiggling his hands in disgust. 

“Sorry about that,” Claire said, coming back into the room. She pointed behind, a hand on her hip, looking exhausted. “You know how Phil gets sometimes.” 

“Claire,” Mitchell said in disgust. “Did you see his age?” 

“No, but he looks about twenty-five. Why?” She walked over, leaning over Mitchell to see the spot on the screen where he was pointing. “Oh my God,” she repeated, and Mitchell nodded his head. “He’s sixty-eight?”

“I know,” Mitchell exclaimed. “I guess the magazine really does work.” He paused, then crossed his legs. “Do you think I could get the name?” 

“Sixty-eight,” Claire said, closing the laptop gently, almost like she was too disturbed to slam it. “Wow. I guess he’s off the table now huh?” 

“Yeah that’d be like dating my dad,” Mitchell replied. “And I don’t need anymore reasons for Longines to accuse me of daddy issues. I already got enough of that when I was dating Charles.” 

Claire looked at him funny. “You never told me about a Charles.” 

“Yeah, and there was a reason for that.” 

“Oh ew,” Claire said, making a face as she finally realised what Mitchell meant. “I didn’t need to know that. Maybe you do have daddy issues.” 

“And that’s why I didn’t tell you,” Mitchell said, checking his watch. He sighed, then stood up. “I have to go, I got work tomorrow.” 

“Yeah, that’s for the best, I need to find someone else for you,” Claire replied, wiping her brow. 

“You need something better to do with your time,” Mitchell said, kissing her on the forehead, and Claire nodded weakly. He grabbed his keys and jacket, then left the room, yelling a goodbye over his shoulder. Claire absentmindedly lifted her hands to wave to him. 

“Sixty-eight,” she repeated. “Wow.” 

* * *

Mitchell and Claire walked through the fair, looking around at all the bright lights surrounding them. It was late at night, and off in the distance someone was setting off red, white, and blue fireworks into the starry sky. It was the 4th of July, and Claire had decided instead of breaking her back planning an amazing event for all the parents, they would just head to the local fair. There were roller coasters, deep fried hot dogs, and children running all over, little American flags in their hands. Luke, Haley, and Alex ran ahead, each with fifty tickets in their hands, promising to stick together, and take care of Luke. Claire waved goodbye, then tugged Mitchell's arm. Phil was somewhere else, volunteering for a magic show for the kids. 

“Come on, we’re following them,” she growled, keeping her eyes out for them moving through the crowd. She followed a few steps behind them, Mitchell rolling his eyes at her behaviour. 

“Didn’t you say they could go off on their own?” he asked, his eyes catching on a rainbow teddy bear on one of the game stands, but Claire pulled him away before he could consider winning it. Not that he would anyway, his aim was shit. 

“Yes I did, that way they think I’m a cool mom, but really I’m just watching them from afar,” Claire replied, turning the corner towards the rides. 

“You should trust them,” Mitchell replied, trying to shake Claire off of him, but her hand was stuck to him like glue, and he eventually just gave up, letting her move him around. 

“Luke doesn’t know how to dress himself at four years old, Alex has already invented a machine that breathes fire, and Haley is,” she stopped, and tried to think of something to say. “Haley,” she finished lamely. 

“You’re a great mom,” Mitchell said sarcastically. 

“You’ll know what I mean when you become a dad,” Claire shot back, then continued on following her kids. “C’mon, we almost lost them.” 

“I think Alex is responsible enough to go off by herself,” Mitchell said. He thought back to all the times Alex had shaken the hands of the people that came to their door, like she was someone important. Alex unnerved many adults; they couldn’t help but see her as another adult stuck inside a kids body. 

“She shouldn't be,” Claire said, peeking behind a stand to see her kids playing a game, shooting water at small plastic aliens. Luke won and he cheered loudly, before picking a small stuffed teddy bear. Haley and Alex cheered, hugging him. 

“Oh, they’re getting along,” Claire sighed happily, if a little confused. 

“Don’t know why you’re so surprised,” Mitchell said, watching as they high fived, then went to the next stand to win something else. 

“You don’t live with them,” Claire muttered. “They actually like you.” 

“Aw really?” Mitchell smiled, then noticed Claire's glare. “Hey, it’s not my fault I’m the favourite,” he said, backing up. 

“It’s because you bribe them, you cheater.” 

Mitchell was about to respond when something caught his eye across the fair, a few feet away from the fence.

“Motherfu-” he said, cutting himself off. There were kids around him after all. Some parents looked at him, almost daring him to swear in front of their kids, and he didn’t feel like being screamed at. 

“What’s wrong?” Claire said, watching Haley try and throw some bean bags into the holes for a small plastic comb. She was barely paying attention to him, intent on keeping an eye on her kids. 

“It’s Fizbo,” Mitchell hissed, hiding behind Claire. “What is he doing here, I thought he was only doing kid's entertainment.” 

“Mitchell, what do you think this all is?” Claire asked, before cringing. Haley’s voice carried over the crowd, yelling something about how stupid Alex was. “That didn’t last long,” Claire muttered, sounding disappointed. 

“I can’t let him see me,” Mitchell said hysterically. “Claire, hide me.” 

Claire looked at him disapprovingly. “Mitchell, I have bigger problems than your strange crush on a freaking clown. I'm going to go get my children before they kill each other. If you’re so uncomfortable with him thinking you’re cute, go talk to him.” 

She pushed him, and Mitchell stumbled forward, almost bumping into someone holding some cotton candy. 

“Sorry,” he cried, the person shaking his head, then turned around and glared at Claire. 

“Come on, be a man,” Claire yelled, shooing him away, before heading towards her fighting children, who were now pulling each other's hair, much to the amusement of the other patrons. 

“You’re starting to sound like dad,” Mitchell yelled after her, then took a deep breath. He turned around to see Fizbo staring at him, no children around him. Everyone had wandered off, and now Mitchell held his full attention. Mitchell rolled his eyes, then made his way over. He was already here, and he had no doubt that if he had come across Fizbo three times already, he would again. He could do this, he could confront the clown. 

“Hey Fizbo,” he said, fake smiling, standing a few feet away from the clown. 

“Hey Mr Green Apron,” Fizbo said, looking him in the eyes. 

“Just Mitchell please,” Mitchell responded, waggling his finger. He toed the ground, trying to gather his thoughts. 

What do you even say when a fucking clown thinks you’re attractive? That doesn’t sound like something that should happen at all. 

“Hey, so I just wanted to say-” 

“You look stunning by the way.” 

Mitchell pursued his lips. “Uh, thank you,” he replied awkwardly. He looked at Fizbo, trying to find something to say back. 

“You look….” he tried to find something to compliment, but he couldn’t find anything. The man was wearing a fucking clown suit, there was nothing attractive about that. “Like a clown,” he finished. 

“Then I’ve done my job correctly.” 

Mitchell took a deep breath in. “Fizbo, there is something I’ve been meaning to tell you-” 

“Mommy look, a clown!” some little kid cried, pointing to Fizbo. Fizbo held up a finger to Mitchell, silencing him. Mitchell crossed his arms, and shut his mouth. 

“Hello young one,” he said, leaning down, diverting his attention to the kid. “How are you today?” 

“I’m good,” the kid said loudly. “Can you make me a unicorn?” she asked, smiling wide, revealing a missing tooth. 

“Of course I can,” Fizbo said, standing up and smiling at her mom, who hesitantly smiled back. “Or my name isn’t Fizbo the clown.” 

Mitchell rolled his eyes. Fizbo started blowing up a white balloon, then a pink one, then a purple. He twisted them together, ending up with a small unicorn within a few minutes. The little girl cheered, taking the animal and hugging it tightly. 

“I love it,” she yelled. “I’ll name her Sparkles.” 

“An excellent name,” Fizbo replied. “Sparkles is going to be very happy with you.” 

“What do you say Annie?” the mother asked, placing a hand on her daughter's head. 

“Thank you,” Annie beamed. Fizbo laughed, and the mom handed him a few coins from her purse. Fizbo pocketed them, then waved goodbye as they walked away. 

“Ah kids,” Fizbo said to Mitchell. “I love them. I hope to have a few of my own one day.” 

“Yeah, I love kids,” Mitchell replied politely. He clasped his hands together, trying to redirect the conversation. “Anyway, like I was saying, I appreciate everything you say, but-” 

“A clown,” some children cried, running up to Fizbo. Mitchell sighed, slumping. The kids excitedly circled Fizbo, at least four of them crowded around him. The parents came a few minutes later, smiling apologetically. 

“Do you think you can make my kids some balloon animals?” the mom asked. 

“Of course I can,” Fizbo said, and Mitchell backed up a few steps, waiting for Fizbo to be done. It took a few minutes, Fizbo making a dog, a cat, a horse, and a pig, but eventually the kids drifted away, holding their new animals. The parents waved goodbye after giving him a few dollars. 

“Sorry about that,” Fizbo said, turning back to Mitchell, walking closer. Mitchell leaned back, keeping his feet planted, not wanting to be rude, but not wanting anyone in his space. “What were you saying?” 

“I was saying that if you could-” the rest of his words were drowned out as fireworks lit up the sky, the shots sounded a few feet away. Mitchell shut his mouth and waited for them to be done, awkwardly looking around, trying not to look Fizbo in the eyes. It took a few minutes, at least twenty, for them to be done, the lights filling the sky as the people around them oohed and ahhed. The fair was illuminated, turning the place different colours. 

“I didn’t quite get that,” Fizbo said once it was over. “Repeat it please.” 

Mitchell pursed his lips. “You know what?” he said. “Nevermind. You have a good day okay?” 

“You too Mr Green Apron,” the clown waved, and Mitchell walked away, cursing himself. “Claire is going to be insufferable,” he muttered, trying to find his sister in the crowd. 

* * *

“Coward,” Claire said, opening the door for Mitchell. They were heading to Jay’s place, the kids spending the night with their grandpa, Claire and Mitchell heading home together after dropping them off. Claire was bringing Mitchell back to his apartment. It was almost midnight, and the kids were tired, their heads drooping. They had eaten lots of sugar and were currently experiencing the crash. Claire nudged them inside after Mitchell and Phil, then shut the door. 

“You weren't there,” Mitchell shot back. “The universe didn’t want me to say anything.” 

“Screw the universe,” Claire replied, then turned to her kids sternly. “Don’t say that word, okay?” 

“Screw,” Luke yelled, and Claire sighed. 

“Why do I even bother?” 

“Who’s screwing who?” Jay asked, walking into the room, holding a glass of whisky in his hands. The kids laughed weakly, still tired, and ran to him, hugging him tightly. “Whoa, careful there kiddos. I’m holding some very expensive glasses.” 

“Sorry grandpa,” said a chorus of voices. 

“Hey dad,” Claire said tiredly. She looked at her kids. “How about you guys go get changed into your pyjamas? You know where the guest rooms are.” 

The kids nodded, Phil following them, waving to Jay. They ran off, their bags grasped tightly in their hands. The adults watched them leave, then turned to each other, standing in a circle in the front entryway. 

“How was the fair?” Jay asked. 

“It was amazing,” Claire said. “Phil did his magic show, and the kids won some games. Mitchell ran into-” 

“Claire, shut up,” Mitchell said, slapping her in the side. Jay raised his eyebrows, and took a sip of his drink. 

“What happened Mitchell?” he asked. 

“Well, Mitchell has this crush on-” 

“First of all Claire,” Mitchell said, turning his body towards her, and Claire shrugged innocently. “I don’t have a crush on him. Second, I’ll tell dad.” He turned back to Jay, who rolled his eyes, like he was preparing himself for something. 

“So there has been this clown that has been flirting with me, and it’s making me feel uncomfortable, but I don’t know how to make it stop. Any suggestions?” 

Jay took a sip of his drink and thought for a few seconds. “Isn’t that kind of homophobic?” he said slowly. “You get mad when I call your people fairies, then you turn around and call them clowns.” 

Mitchell stared at him in shock. “Dad. I’m talking about an actual clown, not a gay person. And fairy is an offensive term you can’t say,” he said, trying to keep the anger from his voice. 

“So now you’re banning me from saying a word,” Jay said accusingly, rolling his eyes. “Equal rights my ass.” 

Mitchell took a deep breath. “Nevermind then.” 

“Hey, come on son, I’m just playing around,” Jay laughed, holding out his arms, and Mitchell rolled his eyes. “Have you told him to stop?” 

“That’s the thing,” Claire butt in, shoving past Mitchell. “I tried to get him to, but he’s a coward, and he didn’t say anything.” 

“That’s because people kept interrupting me and I couldn’t get a word in,” Mitchell added. “You would have done the same.” 

“No, I would have told him he was a dick, and I wanted him to stop.” 

“Oh sure, act all high and mighty, and all better than me-” 

“I agree with Claire,” Jay said, drinking the last of his whisky, and Claire laughed triumphantly. “You got to be more assertive Mitchell, say what you want to say no matter what.” 

“Thank you,” Claire cried. 

“I’m going to kill you both,” Mitchell muttered, crossing his arms. “I’m going to kill you two, and I’m going to get custody of your kids, and I’ll make sure to tell them all the embarrassing stories I can think of about you two.” 

“You’re not getting custody,” Claire laughed. “What about Phil?” 

“I’ll kill Phil too.” 

“Who’s killing Phil?” Phil said from behind them, and all three of them startled, whirling around to see Phil standing at the bottom of the steps. 

“Jesus fuck, where a warning bell or something,” Mitchell sighed, calming his racing heart. Phil looked worryingly at the three of them, and they all looked away, not saying a word. Phil gulped. 

“I don’t feel very safe right now,” he said, walking back upstairs, holding his hands out in surrender. Jay rolled his eyes, and Claire nudged Mitchell. 

* * *

The phone rang, and Mitchell flipped it open, holding it to his shoulder. “Hello?” he said, continuing to wash his breakfast dishes. He had work in an hour and he had just eaten a healthy breakfast. There weren't enough dishes to put it inside the dishwasher, so he was doing them by hand. 

“Hey Mitch,” Claire said, sounding way too chipper for Mitchell, especially so early in the morning. 

“Hey, how are you?” Mitchell asked, placing his plate on a dish rack to dry. He grabbed a cloth, wiped his hands, then adjusted the phone on his ear. 

“I’m good. Listen, I found this amazing guy for you, and he wants to meet at 7 pm tonight. Are you free?” 

“Actually I’m not,” Mitchell replied, and then rolled his eyes at his sister's surprised gasp. “Pepper invited me to this party, and I agreed.” 

“Come on Mitchell, this guy is perfect,” Claire whined. 

“Oh yeah,” Mitchell said sarcastically. “Just like how Mr Toe-sucker was perfect.”

“He was. His foot fetish is just a small quirk that could easily be overlooked. He owned his own business for God's sake.” 

“I’m not sucking anyone's toes, no matter how rich and attractive they are, and frankly, I’m a little concerned how you can just overlook something like that.” 

“I’m just being realistic,” Claire said. “Nobody is going to be perfect, you're going to have to settle one day.” 

“Wow, I hope you won’t tell your kids that,” Mitchell said, leaning against the wall. “Oh yeah Haley, just settle on the guy who controls what you wear at all times and who wants five kids,” he drawled sarcastically. 

Claire was silent for a few seconds. “Okay yeah, that’s kind of horrible,” she said at last, and Mitchell nodded. 

“Look,” he said. “Tell your guy that I’m busy tonight, but I can meet tomorrow at the same time, okay?” 

The sounds of something rustling came from the other end, then Claire finally responded. “Okay,” she said. “I’ll see what I can do.” 

“Okay,” Mitchell replied. Then: “Claire?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Thanks for this. You don’t have to do all this.” 

“Mitchell, I’m so fucking bored right now. Trust me, you’re doing me a favour.” 

Mitchell laughed. “Love you Claire.”

“Love you too. Have fun at your party.” 

“I will. Bye.” 

“Bye.” 

* * *

Peppers parties always had a 50/50 chance of being totally awesome, or totally sucking. Of course, that was always Mitchells personal opinion, everyone else seemed to love all of it. Pepper was an excellent party planner, he just had a tendency to go overboard, or be too dramatic, something that Mitchell wasn’t. He had been told multiple times that he wasn’t a very good gay, and he always wondered what that meant. Just because he wasn’t that dramatic doesn’t mean he wasn’t gay. He had a few rainbow items, he liked the theatre, he once made out with his eleventh grade English teacher, though looking back on that one, he wondered what he had been thinking. The point was, he was both looking forward to and dreading Peppers party. But thankfully, it was looking to be a good one.

“Mitchell darling,” Pepper cried, shoving past some people to greet him at the door. He kissed both of Mitchells cheeks, then grasped Mitchells hands tightly in his own. “It is so lovely to see you. It’s been forever since we have seen each other.” He looked Mitchell up and down, then made a face. “Please tell me that’s not what you’re wearing tonight.” 

“It unfortunately is,” Mitchell said, pulling his hands from Peppers grasp. It was so like Pepper to say what was on his mind. Mitchell was used to it, but sometimes he couldn’t help but roll his eyes at the theatrics. 

“Oh honey,” Pepper drawled, looking disappointed, and Mitchell sighed. “To each their own I guess. Though please come better prepared next time, I need to set you up with someone and you’re not doing yourself any favours coming looking like that.” 

“Why does everyone think I need someone?” Mitchell cried, throwing his hands up. First Claire, then Pepper? “Maybe I like being single.” 

“Mitchell, you haven’t had a serious relationship since Charles,” Pepper said, grabbing his hand and leading him to the living room, pushing him down onto the couch. “And darling? It’s showing.” 

Mitchell stared at him. Pepper didn’t seem to notice his look. “I mean, I don’t even know what was so wrong with Charles. He was a lovely man.” 

“He reminded me too much of my father,” Mitchell said, and Pepper waved him off. 

“Daddy issues. We all have them, it’s not something new.” He patted Mitchells shoulder. “I got some amazing men for you, you just stay here. I have to go greet some more people.” He kissed Mitchells cheek again. “It is so nice seeing you.” 

“Yep,” Mitchell said, crossing his legs under him. “Feelings mutual.” 

Pepper smiled, not noticing his halfway sarcastic tone, then got up, running off back to the front door, and Mitchell was left alone. 

“Hey,” some random man said seductively. “I hear you’re looking for someone.” His shirt was unbuttoned, and he was wearing a pair of tight skinny jeans, designed to draw the viewer's attention to the ass. 

“Fuck off,” Mitchell muttered, and the man backed away, heading to find someone else to bother. 

The rest of the party passed without much of a problem. Peppers parties usually varied from large, with hundreds of people crowded into his mansion, to small, with a small group of tightly laced friends that Mitchell was strangely included in. This was a middle sized party, with enough people that Mitchell couldn’t recognise them all, but small enough that he didn’t feel too overwhelmed. 

Pepper didn’t come back after a few minutes, so Mitchell gave up waiting, instead wandering around and introducing himself. There were a lot of gays guys and straight girls, all gossiping together, and Mitchell joined a group who were talking ex-boyfriends. There were some pretty crazy stories, and Mitchell grew more and more comfortable the more the night passed, even comfortable enough to share his own stories. 

The party dwindled after a while, the guests clearing out after a 12 am mark, and Pepper found him once most of them were gone. 

“Some of us are staying behind to play charades, would you like to join us?” he offered. 

Strangely, Mitchell didn’t feel like going to sleep. He hadn’t drunk barely anything, and he felt warm and comforted inside of Pepper's large house. 

“Sure,” he said, and Pepper directed him to the sitting room, where some people were already gathered, people that Pepper trusted the most. Mitchell found a seat, and Pepper went off to find someone else to join their group. 

Mitchell could recognise some of the people around him, and for those he didn’t, he made his introductions, everyone being friendly and shaking his hand. It was quiet and peaceful, the left over reminders of the party, everyone tuckered out, but not willing to go home just yet. 

Pepper eventually came back, a man walking behind him. “Okay everyone,” Pepper yelled, clapping his hands. “I’m glad you decided to stay behind. I’ll get the maid to bring more drinks,” and then he walked off, trying to find Mary Ann. 

“Howdy y’all,” the man said, waving to the group of people. He wore brightly coloured expensive clothes, something that automatically screamed ‘I’m gay.’ Mitchell couldn’t even imagine himself wearing them. “I’m Cameron, Pepper's friend from Missouri.” 

He walked over, taking a seat across from Mitchell. His mannerism, his accent, everything about him practically screamed farm kid, and Mitchell wondered what he was doing in the city, so far from home. He wondered how Cameron even knew Pepper, knowing the man was very particular about who he hung out with. Mitchell could barely believe Pepper had chosen him sometimes. 

Mitchell looked down, rolling his eyes at Camerons declaration. The person sitting next to him noticed, and nudged him, laughing slightly, and Mitchell looked up. Cameron was staring at him, and Mitchell couldn’t help but smile. There was something about him that Mitchell knew. Maybe it was build of the man, or the voice, but Mitchell knew he had seen Cameron before. He just didn’t remember where. 

Pepper re-entered the room, his maid behind him carrying a tray of drinks. Everyone cheered, and the platter was passed around, everyone taking a glass. Pepper sat next to Mitchell, and leaned into his side. 

“Well Pepper,” a man said, holding up his glass in a toast. Mitchell couldn’t remember his name, but he thought it was something like Eddie. “You’ve done it again. What an amazing evening,” and everyone followed suit with their own praise for the man. 

“Oh stop it,” Pepper said, waving his hand dismissively, but Mitchell could see the way he preened under their attention. “I’m just glad to have you people here with me tonight.” 

They all clinked their glasses, then drank, before dividing into groups for charades. They moved to different couches to show the two different teams, six on each, and Mitchell ended up sitting next to Cameron. Their team went first, Cameron picking the first card. He stood up in the centre of the room. Pepper grabbed the timer, flipped it, and Cameron started flapping his arms around. 

“Bird,” someone yelled out, and Cameron nodded, then moved his finger in a circular motion, signalling them to keep guessing. 

Dove, sparrow, hummingbird, jay, and crow were all yelled out, and Cameron shook his head at each one. The timer was running out, and Cameron stopped flapping his arms, instead making a jerky motion with his head, like he was trying to turn it. 

“Owl,” Mitchell yelled out, but it was too late. The timer ran out, and Pepper held it up smugly, shaking it. 

“Too bad,” he drawled, and the other team laughed. Cameron came back, and sat down. 

“Good job,” he whispered in Mitchells ear, and Mitchell blushed, then hated himself for it. He wasn’t here to find someone, Claire had already done so much for him, he felt weird thinking about doing it himself. 

The game continued, each time slowly creeping up in points. The score would constantly shift, each team having a chase to win and lose. Mary Ann kept bringing out drinks, and Mitchell took some gratefully. 

A few minutes later, someone on Mitchells team tried to act something out, and nobody could get it. After a few minutes they gave up, until Cameron yelled out, “Tractor.” 

It ended up being the right answer, and everyone had patted Cameron on the back, congratulating him. 

“I grew up on a farm so obviously I would know that,” Cameron bragged, and Mitchell couldn’t stop himself from rolling his eyes. Maybe it was a little rude, but he couldn’t help it. Cameron was way too proud of where he came from. 

The night progressed, everyone getting more and more drunk. Eventually they were almost done, each team tied, with one more chance to win. Both teams were on the edge of their seats, knowing that if Mitchell messed up, the point would be given to them. Mitchell grabbed the card, then groaned. 

Casablanca. He had no idea how he was going to act that out. The timer started and his team urged him along, desperate to win. Mitchell didn’t know what else to do, so he made piano hands, knowing it wouldn’t work. 

“Casablanca,” Cameron yelled, and Mitchell looked at him in shock. Well damn. 

“You’re right,” he breathed, and everyone cheered. Pepper collapsed on the chair in defeat, as dramatic as ever. 

The group spent the next few minutes talking, the winning team bragging, until the losing team shut them up, glaring. Mitchell laughed at everyones antics, knowing he would be holding this over Peppers head for a long time. 

“It’s time to go everybody,” Pepper said eventually, and everyone started leaving, giving their goodbyes. Mitchell hugged him goodbye, making sure to gloat, and Pepper glared at him, pushing him away. 

Mitchell went over to the front entryway and called Claire to come pick him up. He had been dropped off by one of his friends, but he had left when the other guests did, not staying behind for charades. Mitchell knew he could probably take the train home, but he was drunk, and he didn’t want to walk five blocks through the city to get to the train station. 

“What do you want?” Claire answered after a few rings, sounding tired, and Mitchell remembered it was now 1:30 am. He cringed, feeling slightly bad. 

“I need you to pick me up. I was drinking,” Mitchell said, plugging his ears as some of the people walked by, ready to walk home instead, being in the same neighbourhood as Pepper. They were noisy, and he knew Claire had heard them. 

The line was silent. “I fucking hate you,” Claire eventually said, and the sounds of blankets rustling sounded over the phone. She stood up, walking over to the closet. 

“I’m so sorry,” Mitchell said. “I was going to get a ride home with Simon, he was the designated driver, but I ended up staying behind.” 

“You’re so lucky I love you,” Claire said, throwing on a shirt. “You owe me big time asshole.” 

“I love you Claire,” Mitchell said, and Claire growled on the other end, hanging up. Mitchell pocketed his phone, turning around and almost bumping into Cameron, who was standing close behind. 

“Hey,” he said, backing up, not liking anyone in his space, even though Cameron was cute. 

“Getting a ride home?” Cameron asked. They were alone in the entryway, everyone else already gone. It was silent, and Mitchell was once again hit with the feeling that he knew Cameron. The voice, the mannerism, everything screamed familiarity, but Mitchell couldn’t quite place where he knew him from. It was starting to bother him, the lack of information. 

“Yeah, my sister is picking me up,” Mitchell replied. “You?” 

“I’m staying here for the night, Pepper offered to give me a guest bedroom.” 

Mitchell nodded. He didn’t know what else to say, too busy trying to find where he knew Cameron from. 

“That was pretty cool during charades huh?” Cameron laughed, and Mitchell agreed. He shoved his hands into his pocket, not knowing how to act around the man. 

“I didn’t think anyone would get it.” 

“Are you kidding? That was my mama’s favourite movie back on the farm,” Cameron said, and Mitchell stifled a laugh. “Is something funny?” 

“Oh nothing,” Mitchell waved off, trying to stop himself from smiling. “That was just the seventh time you mentioned your farm tonight.” 

“Well, forgive me for being proud of where I come from.” 

“That’s not what I meant. I’m sorry,” Mitchell apologised, not feeling very sorry. “I’m sure your farm is amazing.” 

“It is,” Cameron said, sticking his nose up in the air, and Mitchell thought that should be his job, being a smug asshole. Cameron was a few inches taller than him, and Mitchell despised that. Maybe he shouldn’t have drank so much coffee as a child after all. 

“Well, it was nice playing with you,” Mitchell said, wondering if the conversation was over. He didn’t want it to, but he was sure Cameron had better stuff to do then entertain him. 

“Wait,” Cameron said, holding out his hands. Mitchell had noticed that about him; he seemed to talk with his hands an awful lot. “I don’t want to scare you away again, but can I give you my number?” 

Again? That just confirmed they had probably met each other before. Or maybe Cameron was talking about before, when he had accidentally sat on Mitchells lap coming back from performing a card, and Mitchell had blushed so hard, he knew Cameron had seen. Either way, Mitchell could barely think. 

“Uh sure,” he said, and Cameron grabbed his arm, pushing Mitchells sleeve up. He pulled a pen from his shirt pocket, and scribbled his number on Mitchells skin. Mitchell tried to hold still, his entire body shaking. 

“There you go,” Cameron said, pocketing his pen again. “Will you call?” He sounded so hopeful, like he actually wanted Mitchell to, and Mitchell thought that maybe he would. 

“Sure,” he said, and Cameron smiled. Mitchell smiled back, and Cameron dropped his arm. Mitchell kept his sleeve rolled up so the ink could dry. 

“See you soon,” Mitchell waved, and Cameron walked back into the house, leaving Mitchell behind in silence. 

Car lights filled the room from the window, and Mitchell left the house into the cold night to see Claire in the driver's seat, looking pissed. Mitchell gulped, and walked over, opening the car door and getting in. 

“Fuck you,” Claire said, putting the car in reverse, prepared to drive Mitchell home. 

“I deserve that,” he sighed, and ran his finger along Cameron's number. When none of the ink smudged, he pulled down his sleeve, and placed his head on the console. He didn’t close his eyes, knowing that Claire would never forgive him if he slept after waking her up, and instead thought about Cameron. 

* * *

“Hey, is this Cameron?” Mitchell held his breath, holding the phone still, trying to steady his voice, hiding the fact that he was currently fucking terrified. He hadn’t asked someone out in forever, he barely remembered how to. 

“Yes, this is him.” 

“Oh,” Mitchell breathed, feeling relieved. He felt unnaturally nervous, and shook his hands, trying to shake off the feeling. “It’s Mitchell, from last night?” 

“Mitchell,” Cameron said, sounding happy to hear from him. “How are you? Are you feeling okay? You drank quite a bit last night.” 

“Are you kidding?” Mitchell laughed, slowly feeling more comfortable as they started talking. “You should have seen me in high school, last night was nothing compared to back then.” 

“Oh, I know exactly what you mean,” Cameron said. “Back on the farm they said that if you were old enough to drive a tractor, you were old enough to drink, and I was driving tractors at eight years old.” 

“Wow, that’s young.” 

“I tell you, you could get away with almost anything back there.” 

“Almost makes my boring city life seem drab in comparison,” Mitchell said sarcastically. 

“Oh, I’m sure your city life has some good things to it.” 

Mitchell laughed, not knowing how to tell him it was a joke. “I had some fun times back then, I’ll tell you that.” 

The line was silent. “Is there a reason you called?” Cameron asked after it became almost unbearable, and Mitchell sighed. 

“Yes actually,” he said, trying to gather his thoughts. “I had fun with you last night-” 

“And I with you,” Cameron interrupted. Mitchell stopped talking, and when Cameron didn’t say anything else, he hesitantly continued. 

“And I thought that maybe we could-” 

“Meet up again?” Cameron laughed. “I feel the same way.” 

“If you want to ask me out instead, do so,” Mitchell said. “But don't do the same when I’m trying to ask you.” 

“Well, you were taking forever,” Cameron whined. “It’s as simple as, “Hey Cam. Do you want to go out for some coffee this afternoon?”” 

“Well, you ask instead if you know how to do it.”

“Fine. Mitchell, you want to go out for coffee with me today?” 

“Well, now I’m not so sure,” Mitchell teased, and Cameron gasped from the other end, sounding betrayed. He was almost as dramatic as Pepper, Mitchell was finding out. 

“You’re a cruel man, don’t you know that?” 

“I think I’ve been told that once or twice,” Mitchell responded. “I was joking anyway. Do you have anywhere in mind?” 

“Actually yes. There is this amazing cafe on Bakers street that I think you’ll love. Meet me there in an hour?” 

“Sure,” Mitchell said. “See you soon.” 

“Bye,” Cameron said, then hung up. Mitchell set down his phone, and placed a hand on his racing heart. 

“Fuck," he muttered. He couldn't believe he had gotten this far. He was sure he would have chickened out before the first ring of the phone. 

* * *

Mitchell took a deep breath, and brushed himself off, trying to make sure he appeared perfect. He currently stood in front of the cafe an hour later, gathering the courage to go inside. He was uncharacteristically nervous; he usually didn’t get like that before first dates. His sister always said he was the calm and cool one of the family, the one who knew what to do in times of crisis, the one who usually spoke to those in charge because he knew when not to yell. 

That, of course, didn’t apply when someone was being fucking homophobic, but he was still proud of his reputation as the calm one. 

However, this was different. His heart was hammering, and he had to pinch his arm to get himself to calm down. He felt scared, and he wondered why. It wasn’t like this was important, but he wanted it to go well. This was the first time in a while he was excited to go on a date. He didn’t want to blow it. 

“Well,” he muttered. “Enough waiting around.” He walked forward, entering the cafe, and the door opened with the ring of a bell. 

Inside was warm and cozy. It had the central theme of every coffee shop ever, with dark wooden tables, and brown earthy tones around. It smelled of pastries and coffee, and Mitchell's eyes were automatically drawn to where Cameron was sitting, his bright pink shirt standing out. He waved to Mitchell, and Mitchell walked over, taking a seat, trying to appear like he hadn’t just spent five minutes gathering the courage to even walk inside. 

“Hey,” Cameron said. “I wasn’t sure what you wanted, so I didn’t order anything for you.” In front of him was a cup of tea and a blueberry scone, half eaten. Again, Mitchell was hit by the feeling that he knew Cameron, but it wasn’t as strong as it was before. Mitchell decided that he would find out eventually, no use worrying about it. 

“I guess I’ll just get something right now,” Mitchell said, taking off his jacket, draping it over the chair. He stood up again, and walked to the counter, ordering a large coffee. The barista made it, handing it over, and Mitchell paid. He walked back to his seat to Cameron holding his drink. 

“Well, this is nice,” Cameron said, sipping his tea when Mitchell got back and settled. “I don’t know how you manage to drink coffee so late in the afternoon. I barely drink any at all.” 

“Yeah well, I have this big report due soon, and I need to finish it by tonight. I’m going to be up for a long time.” 

“Oh my God, I am keeping you from work?” Cameron asked, sounding worried, and Mitchell felt a flash of fear. He had already fucked up. Great. 

“Oh no, don’t worry, I’m almost done anyway,” he lied, thinking of the massive stack of papers that waited for him back at his apartment. “I want to be here.” 

“Good,” Cameron sighed with relief. “I would hate to be the reason you get fired.” 

“Don’t worry, you won’t be,” Mitchell reassured. “I’m an environmental lawyer, so I’m busy a lot. I have this big case coming up soon, but I’m sure you don’t want to hear about that.” 

“Of course I do,” Cameron said, leaning forward like he was actually interested, and Mitchells heart skipped a beat. 

He spent the next half an hour talking about his case. Some rich man wanted to buy it out and drain the water from the area to bottle and sell, but the locals didn’t want that to happen. So they called Mitchell's boss who was originally on the case, but it was given to Mitchell after it proved to be too hard for him. Cameron listened intently, asking questions when he didn’t understand something, and Mitchell had never met someone who was willing to listen to him the way Cameron did. It was refreshing being listened to for once. Jay barely respected him as a man, his job be damned, and Claire could barely sit still long enough to listen. He enjoyed talking for once, an audience captivated by his voice. 

“I’m sorry, I’ve been talking too long haven’t I?” he said when he was done, looking at the clock. His coffee was half drunk and cold. “I didn’t mean to ramble.” 

“Oh, you’re so cute when you talk,” Cameron said, and Mitchell looked down, wondering if he should take that as a compliment or an insult. 

“Well, what about you?” Mitchell asked. “If you had to listen to my boring job, you should tell me about yours.” 

“It wasn’t boring at all. And I’m a music teacher at the high school,” Cameron started, and Mitchell prepared himself to listen “I also coach football.” 

“Really?” 

“Oh, no need to sound so surprised. I figured as another gay guy you’d understand the harmful stereotypes.” 

“Oh no, I get it,” Mitchell reassured. “I don’t like the stereotypes either. I’m just shocked because, well…” he trailed off, trying to figure out how to mention everything about Cameron that seemed to scream “typical feminine gay”. 

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence, I could snap you like a twig.” 

“You know what, I believe you,” Mitchell joked, and Cameron seemed to finally retreat. “So you’re a music teacher and football coach. Wow.” 

“I also work another job-” 

“Really?” Mitchell asked, impressed, not realising Cameron wasn’t done talking. “I can barely handle this one, how do you do it?” 

“Oh, you just need to spread out your time, make sure your schedules don’t overlap. It’s really not that hard.” 

“Well, that’s amazing,” Mitchell said, sipping his cold coffee. No need to let it go to waste after all. “You’re amazing.”

“Oh, I know,” Cameron said, looking proud of himself, and Mitchell smiled at his confidence. The date was going fairly well, almost no problems at all. 

The two continued talking, Mitchell telling stories about when he and Claire were young, and Cameron talked about his life on the farm. He had come to the city seeking adventure. To quote Cameron himself, “It’s the perfect set up for a musical,” and Mitchell agreed. It was definitely something he would watch. 

A few hours later and the sun was almost setting, and Mitchell startled, realising how late it had gotten. 

“This has been lovely, but I’m actually meeting my family for dinner soon,” he said apologetically. He stood up slowly, not wanting to go. Jay was probably going to be homophobic like always, Claire curious about where he had been all day, and Phil just as stupidly oblivious as always. Being with Cameron was preferable, but Claire would yell at him if he didn’t. 

“Hey, you go on ahead,” Cameron said, standing up as well. He grabbed his coat, and Mitchell took it as a sign he could grab his too. “I love my family, I know how you feel.” 

“I can assure you I’m not doing it out of love,” Mitchell said, starting to walk out. He waited for Cameron to walk around the table so they could leave together. “More out of obligation than anything.” 

“That’s sad,” Cameron said, opening the door for Mitchell, and Mitchell thanked him. It was warm outside, not quite night out yet, and Mitchell could see his car alone in the parking lot, save Camerons a few feet away. 

“I had fun today,” Mitchell said, turning to him. It was time for goodbyes, hoping the other would call again later, like he hadn’t messed up or said something to make Cameron run. He found himself hoping they would see each other again. 

“Me too.” 

“I’m sorry I have to go, I would love to stay with you,” Mitchell continued. “But y’know, family time is important or some bullshit like that,” he laughed awkwardly. 

“Of course,” Cameron said. “Are you free this Saturday?” he eventually asked, putting his hands in his pocket. 

“I think I am, why?” 

“Give me your address and I can pick you up at 5 pm,” Cameron said, handing Mitchell a pen, the same one he used to write his number back at Peppers place. Mitchell reached into his pocket and pulled out a piece of paper, using the wall as a table. “I have this amazing spot I can take you for a second date, if you want.” 

“That sounds amazing,” Mitchell said, handing him the paper. “I’ll clear my calendar.” 

“I’ll see you on Saturday then.”

The two looked at each other awkwardly. Cameron went in for a hug, and Mitchell held out his hand, partly to push him away and partly because he didn’t know what else to do. They exchanged a handshake, then waved goodbye, walking towards their cars. Mitchell waited until Cameron pulled out and drove away before slamming his head on the wheel. 

“A handshake?” he muttered. “What the fuck?” He pulled out of the driveway, speeding away towards Jay’s place for dinner, ready to yell at Claire about his day. 

He really should find better people to bitch to.

* * *

“Claire, I don’t need your help anymore. I’ve met someone,” Mitchell yelled into the house, slamming the door behind him. Claire came running from the kitchen, looking shocked. She wore an apron covered in flour and sauce, and held a ladle in her hands, bits of celery still sticking to it. 

“Tell me everything,” she said excitedly, dragging him inside, and he followed. 

“I’m going to go get something to drink,” Jay said, leaving as soon as they entered, and Mitchell watched him go, feeling slightly disappointed that he didn’t want to stick around to hear what happened. 

Claire pushed him around, shoving him into a kitchen chair, before heading back to the stove to continue cooking. It looked like spaghetti from where Mitchell was sitting, and he grew excited, remembering the days when Jay would make that dish almost every week because Dede refused to cook. 

“So, what’s his name?” Claire asked, stirring the sauce. 

“His name is Cameron, and I met him at Peppers party last night,” Mitchell said, trying to keep it vague. 

“Come on, tell me more,” Claire whined, and Mitchell rolled his eyes at her childishness. 

“Fine. He didn’t ask me to do porn, he didn’t ask me to suck his toes, and he didn’t spend the entire date talking about himself. All in all, he fits all the qualifications.” 

“You act like the bar is so low,” Claire said, rolling her eyes. “The guys I picked out for you were fine, you’re just picky.” 

“Well, Cameron is better than all of them put together, so who has better taste now?” 

“I still do because you didn’t give any of the other guys a chance.” 

“Claire, let it go,” Mitchell said. The smell of spaghetti filled the air, and Mitchell breathed deeply. 

“Smells delicious,” he continued, trying to change the subject. 

“Of course it does, I’m making it,” Claire muttered, taking a spoon and trying the sauce. She put the spoon down when she was done, and thought for a few seconds. “More cumin,” she concluded, reaching into the cupboards. 

“Are you two ladies done gossiping?” Jay yelled from the living room. “Because I can sense someone about to ruin my sauce and I want to come back in.” 

“You can come back in anyway dad,” Mitchell yelled, ignoring his comment. “We’re done. We never started.” 

“We’re not,” Claire hissed, pointing the spoon at Mitchell menacingly, and Mitchell knew she would be calling him later. More than enough time for him to figure out a way to tell her everything without revealing any important information. It was a skill that was hard to master, but the end results were worth it. 

Jay entered the kitchen again, holding a small glass of alcohol, and made a beeline towards Claire, snatching the cumin from her hands. She grunted, but let him take it, muttering angrily to herself. Jay rolled his eyes, and put the spice back where it belonged. 

“The sauce is good enough,” he said. 

“It’s lacking something,” Claire replied, heading towards the cupboard again, intent on getting the cumin back. Jay blocked her, and when she tried to go around, he followed. The two spent five minutes doing that, and Mitchell sighed. He couldn’t believe he had abandoned a date for this. 

* * *

“Where are we going?” Mitchell asked, Cameron tugging him through the park. He was wearing a nice sweater and his good shoes, hoping to make a good impression. Cameron looked as fabulous as he usually did, and Mitchell was jealous over how well he could pull off purple.

“It’s a surprise,” Cameron said for the fourth time, tugging Mitchell into one of the trails, pushing aside some branches. The trees made long shadows across the ground, covering them with darkness. Cameron walked with purpose, moving through the woods quickly. 

“Well you see, that’s usually what people say before they murder someone,” Mitchell said, and he could almost sense Cameron rolling his eyes in front of him. 

“I’m not going to kill you.” 

“Another thing they say before they kill someone.” 

“Are you always this uptight?” Cameron asked, but it didn’t sound like an accusation, the way it had with former dates when Mitchell had finally felt comfortable enough to be himself around them. Instead it was just a simple question, and Mitchells blood didn’t boil. 

“They said I came out of the womb this way,” he joked. “Forgive me for being a little bit cautious.” 

“Well, you have to learn to trust a little,” Cameron said. “Otherwise you'll miss out on-” he stopped. “Oh, we’re here.” 

He pulled Mitchell into a clearing, threw open his arms revealing the surprise, and Mitchell felt his heart drop into his stomach. In a good way though. 

Well, maybe Cameron was perfect. Because damn.

In the centre of the clearing was a large tree covered in fairy lights with a picnic blanket and basket under it. The smell of food wafted over, smelling amazing, and Mitchell could see a bottle of wine hidden in a bucket of ice, and he was grateful for it. Because his heart was already beating too fast in his chest, and he would need some courage to get through the night. And if he unintentionally said something rude to the sweet, caring, romantic man who seemed to really like Mitchell, he very much did not want to remember it the next day. 

“I-” he stammered. “I don’t know what to say.” 

“Oh damn it,” Cameron said, sounding defeated and Mitchell whirled around to face him, berating himself for his less than ideal reaction. “I moved too fast. I should have known this was too much for you, mother always said I need to reign in my charm, but I really like you,” he rambled, looking way too sad for someone wearing a silk scarf, something Mitchell knew he had borrowed from Pepper. 

“No Cam, don’t worry,” Mitchell said, putting his hands on Camerons shoulders. He smiled, trying to appear reassuring. “This is amazing, I’m just shocked. This is the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me.” 

“Really?” Cameron said, his nervousness melting away, and Mitchell smiled, glad he had fixed things. 

“Of course. I mean, the last few dates I’ve been on? Fucking horrible. But this?” He walked forward, taking in the lights and the food, and spun around, back to Cameron. “This is wonderful.” 

He wasn’t completely lying. While it was true it was a bit too much for someone like Mitchell, who moved slow and steady, with romantic dates at spas and restaurants, it seemed to fit Cameron perfectly. And Mitchell really liked Cameron. So he was willing to put his own concerns and fears aside to make sure Cameron knew Mitchell really liked him, that he was serious. So he walked over, sitting cross legged on the blanket, and Cameron followed, collapsing next to him. 

“Did you make this yourself?” Mitchell asked, tugging the food towards him. He pulled out some sushi and some spring rolls, all kept cool inside the basket with ice. 

“Would you believe me if I said yes?” 

Mitchell looked at him suspiciously. “Not with that answer.” 

“Fine,” Cameron sighed. “I got them at this amazing restaurant Pepper suggested. He said it was fantastic and that you would love it.” 

“You asked Pepper about me?” Mitchell asked, pausing. He was in the middle of getting out some plates for the two of them, but he stopped, thinking about what Cameron said. That was the first time someone had done that for him. What did Cameron want Mitchell to do, fall in love with him? 

“I wanted this to be perfect,” Cameron said. “And Pepper offered to help me. He set this all up.” He pointed to the lights strung up in the branches, then stopped. “Actually, he just bossed some people around to do it for him, but it still happened. So.” 

“That sounds like Pepper alright,” Mitchell laughed, getting some sushi. He picked up the chopsticks and started eating, Cameron following suit, struggling with the utensils. Mitchell taught him how to use chopsticks properly, and it was enjoyable. 

They sat together, sometimes talking, sometimes eating, watching the sky as the sun set, casting colour across it, pinks and oranges. 

“So,” Cameron said, pulling out some tiny cakes, and handing a platter to Mitchell. “Did I do alright?” 

Mitchell stopped and stared into the sky, thinking about his answer. “You know,” he eventually said, turning back to Cameron, who looked hopeful. “This is the gayest thing I’ve ever done.” 

Cameron laughed, relief filling his face, and Mitchell wondered why he was so happy Mitchell enjoyed himself. “Somehow I doubt that,” Cameron fired back.

“That sounds like an insult, but I’m going to take it as a compliment,” Mitchell replied, causing Cameron to laugh harder. 

“It’s a compliment,” he said, calming down, resting his head on Mitchells shoulder, watching as the sky darkened, readying for twilight. “Is this okay?” he asked from Mitchells shoulder. 

“Yeah,” Mitchell said, feeling himself tense up, but forced himself to stay still, knowing that if he moved, Cameron would never forgive him. He hated having his space invaded, but he could make an exception just this once. 

A few minutes went by in silence, then Cameron turned his head, bringing it back up to look Mitchell in his eyes. “Is this okay?” he asked, a few inches away from Mitchells face, and Mitchell always did appreciate a polite man. 

“Yeah,” he repeated, then Cameron was kissing him, and Mitchell would have to revisit rule number five in his mental dating handibook, “no kissing until the third date.” It was created after the mess that was Charles, but he didn’t think he needed it anymore. Plus, Cameron was sure as hell not Charles Bunkin, and Mitchell already trusted him more in a day then he had Charles in six months. 

Thanks for asking,” Mitchell said when Cameron pulled away, then mentally kicked himself in the balls. That wasn’t what you were supposed to say when someone finishes kissing you. Do you compliment them? No, that’s weird. Do you laugh? No, even weirder, and frankly, kind of insulting. 

“Please stop thinking,” Cameron said. “I can hear you from over here. You know you can say no right?” 

“Of course I know, don’t worry,” Mitchell reassured. “I’m just-” he stopped. “Shocked things are going so well.” 

“Why wouldn’t they? We are both amazing men who both want to have a good time,” Cameron said, leaning back. “I don’t know who you’ve been seeing, but I can assure you I’m better.” 

“Oh, you don’t even want to know,” Mitchell complained, moving towards Cameron so they were sitting right next to each other. “I love my sister, but her taste in gay men is shit.” 

“Straight woman?” Cameron asked, and Mitchell nodded. “Of course she is.” 

They stayed silent, leaning against each other, watching as the stars started to twinkle. It grew cold outside, and Cameron pulled out a blanket to wrap around both of them, a soft velvety colour. Somewhere in the distance, police sirens howled, and it was strange. They were in a darkened woods, seemingly far away from civilisation, but in reality it was right outside their door, so Mitchell tried to make the most of it before he was forced to return home. 

“Do you have work tomorrow?” Cameron asked, breaking the silence. 

“No,” Mitchell whispered, too scared to break the peace and raise his voice. “Do you?” 

“No.” 

The two looked at each other for a moment before leaning in, wrapping their arms around the other, kissing each other again, and Mitchell completely abolished rule number five. He might have to revisit rule number one in his mental dating handibook as well. 

* * *

“Where were you,” Claire yelled, running up to him worryingly. She had been waiting by the apartment door, looking confused and Mitchell dreaded speaking to her. “I’ve been waiting for nearly seven minutes and-” 

She stopped and took in his appearance, the rumpled clothes and the smudge of dirt he knew he still had on his face. A slow, knowing grin broke across her face, and Mitchell didn’t want to deal with her at the moment. 

“Mitchell, you didn’t,” she crowed, moving aside so Mitchell could unlock his apartment door, letting them both inside. “I thought you were against that kind of stuff. You used to give me all kinds of hell.” 

“Claire,” Mitchell said, two seconds away from hitting her.  
  


“Yes?” 

“Shut the fuck up please.” 

* * *

Mitchell sat alone at a table in a romantic restaurant, brushing his finger along the edge of his wine glass. He was waiting for Cameron to show up for their third date, and Cameron was running late. Not terribly late, but enough to make Mitchell wonder if he was going to show at all. He didn’t think he could handle being stood up, especially not by Cameron, someone Mitchell really liked. 

He picked up his glass and took a small sip. When he brought it back down he could see Cameron at the front, signing in, then looking around, and locking eyes with Mitchell, who felt relieved now that Cameron was finally there. Cameron's eyes lit up, and he walked over, wearing a beautiful suit, and Mitchell felt slightly underdressed in his drab outfit. 

“Hey,” Mitchell said when Cameron got to the table, sitting down. Cameron picked up a menu, saying his hellos, eyes wandering over the food options. 

“Sorry I’m late,” he said, and Mitchell waved him off, just glad he was there. “I got held up at my job.” 

“Music teaching?” 

“No,” Cameron said, giving him a funny look. “The other one. The kids wouldn’t let me leave.” 

“Oh,” Mitchell said. Football coaching then. “Well, you look very handsome tonight,” he smiled, picking up the menu. He didn’t want to order until Cameron got there, and he was glad he waited for him. 

“Thank you,” Cameron replied. “You look very nice as well.” 

The waiter came to take their orders, and Mitchell ordered the chicken, Cameron following suit. The waiter took their menus, and Cameron poured himself some wine from the bottle, getting ready for their night. They spent the time waiting for their dinner talking about their families, still getting to know each other. Mitchell tried to hold some things back, not used to finding someone he clicked with so quickly, but he couldn’t help it. He found himself being more open with Cameron, though he still made sure to keep some secrets. He wasn’t _that_ open just yet. 

Their meals came, and the two of them started eating, the rest of the restaurant filling up till almost every table was full of people. The wave of noise waxed and waned, sometimes filling the room like a persistent buzz, and sometimes coming down to small clicks and clatters of cutlery against glass. 

“This place is nice,” Cameron complimented, and Mitchell nodded, swallowing a bit of chicken. It was small but cozy, and the food was some of the best Mitchell ever had. 

“My parents used to love it here,” he said, setting down his fork gently to talk. “They took me and my sister once every year until I was seven.” 

“Why until seven?” Cameron asked, confused. 

Mitchell leaned forward, sharing a secret, and Cameron followed suit. “Lets just say that I look a lot different then I did twenty years ago, and almost all the staff has been replaced since then.” 

“Wow,” Cameron said. “So what I’m getting from all your stories is that your family loves causing a scene.” 

“Just my mom and dad, and now that they’re divorced, it’s better for everyone,” Mitchell replied, picking his fork back up to continue eating.

“I can’t imagine my parents ever getting a divorce,” Cameron commented. “They’ve loved each other through barns fires and twisters,” he laughed, and Mitchell rolled his eyes playfully. That was the third time he mentioned anything about his farm since the meal started. Mitchell was starting to get the sense Cameron was homesick. 

“Cameron, do you think maybe you should-'' Mitchell started, before his eyes were caught on something else. “What’s that?” He pointed to a spot of white under Camerons chin, just a small smudge, barely noticeable, but now that Mitchell had caught it, it was all he could see. 

“Oh that?” Cameron asked, wiping his chin, and the smudge went away. “Probably just some leftover makeup.” 

“You wear makeup?” Mitchell asked. Cameron looked at him, raising an eyebrow, and Mitchell rushed to fix his statement. “I mean, it’s fine if you do, I don’t care. I just didn’t think you were that kind of gay.” 

“Mitchell,” Cameron said slowly, like he was speaking to a child. “It’s clown makeup. From Fizbo. My third job.” 

“Fizbo,” Mitchell said, shocked. “You’re Fizbo?” 

Well, he had gotten the sense he had known Cameron from somewhere. He always thought he would find out eventually, he just didn’t think it was that. Now it was all making sense. He could hear it now, the similarities of the voices. Fizbo was slightly higher then Cameron, but it was undeniable now. 

“I mean, of course,” Cameron said, flinging his arms out in the exaggerated movements he always used. “What did you think my name was, Gizbo? Well, he is a very talented clown, though he relies way too much on audience participation,” Cameron gossiped, like he was sharing some hidden secret. All Mitchell could hear, however, was “I’m Fizbo.” 

“So, that was you at Luke's birthday?” he asked, dropping his fork, the cutlery landing with a clatter. 

“Who else would it be, unless someone has stolen my identity,” Cameron joked, like everything was normal, like he hadn’t just practically dropped a metaphorical bomb on Mitchell. “I recognised you at Peppers party, that’s why I approached you. I have to say, I didn’t have my hopes up after you didn’t call the first time, but you pulled through.” He stopped, like he was thinking. “Hey, why didn’t you call the first time?” 

He stared at Mitchell, and Mitchells mind was working a hundred miles an hour, still caught on “I’m Fizbo,” but a small part of him screamed to speak, lest he lose Cameron, and he forced his mouth to open. 

“My sister threw out the paper,” he said through gritted teeth. “I was going to, but I didn’t remember the number.” 

It was kind of the truth. Claire had thrown away his number, though Mitchell had asked her to. But Cameron didn’t need to know that part. 

“That’s good,” Cameron laughed, taking a bite of his meal. “I was wondering if you just didn’t like me or something.” 

“Oh never,” Mitchell said, forcing a laugh. He didn’t know what else to do. How else were you supposed to react when the guy you really liked revealed that he had been flirting with you secretly for the last few months? It sounded like something right out of a cheesy rom-com, or romance novel. 

“I’m sorry,” Cameron said suddenly, getting up. “I have to go to the washroom, do you know where it is?”

Mitchell pointed behind him blindly, and Cameron thanked him, walking over. Mitchell was now left alone with his thoughts with nothing to distract him, and it was hell. 

So Cameron was Fizbo, the clown making Mitchell uncomfortable at almost every major family event for the last few months. Mitchell did not fucking expect that. But it didn’t change anything about him. Cameron was still Cameron, just with another name. 

Mitchell took a deep breath, gathering himself. Cameron was Fizbo. He could live with that. Mitchell could overlook that one small piece of Cameron he didn’t like. He knew Cameron was probably doing the same for him, and if Cameron could ignore Mitchells many quirks, Mitchell could ignore Camerons. 

Besides, Fizbo wasn’t as bad as toe sucking or porn. Mitchell could learn to live with it. It was still better than a lot of things. 

Satisfied his private freak out was over, Mitchell picked up his fork again, then dropped it a few seconds later. It was a miracle the fork hadn’t landed on the floor yet. 

What was he going to tell Claire? Mitchell could live down many things. He could live down the fact that he had never beaten Claire in a fight before in his life, he could live down the fact that both he and Claire had been invited to a threesome together during high school, the other participant unaware they were siblings. He could live down the fact that he once was arrested for stealing a fucking ABBA record. The point was he could survive through a lot of embarrassing things. Surviving through the teasing his sister would do once she found out he was dating the same clown he bitched about whenever he saw the entertainer? Fuck no. It would be torture. He needed to keep it a secret for as long as he could. He could deal with the aftermath later. At least that would give him enough time to think of a believable cover story. 

“Hey Mitchell?” Cameron asked, returning from the washroom. Mitchell stuffed a bite of vegetable into his mouth and hummed back. Cameron sat back down, picking up his fork to continue eating. “Do you think we should get dessert?” 

Mitchell swallowed his food, then wiped his mouth. “Whatever you want Cam,” he smiled, trying to appear normal. It must have worked, because once Cameron was done his meal, he reached for the dessert menu. 

“The cheesecake looks good,” Cameron said, showing him the picture. “Do you think we should get some?” 

“You can, I don’t want dessert,” Mitchell said, waving him off. He didn’t feel like eating anymore food, his stomach full. 

Cameron looked him up and down, a strange look on his face. “I won’t either then,” he said, pointedly, putting the menu away, and Mitchell sighed. He was already learning Cameron was a bit more sensitive than he, and it was strange to have to deal with. Everyone in his life was tough, right from his father to his own sister. They didn't talk about feelings; he wasn't very good at dealing with them either. 

“Get it Cam, I just don’t like cheesecake,” Mitchell said, grabbing the menu back and shoving it in Cameron's hands. Cameron looked at it, then back at Mitchell. 

“Are you sure?” he asked, and Mitchell waved his hands. 

“Yes, yes, I’m not the boss of you.” 

“Okay then,” Cameron smiled, then waved down the waiter, ordering some dessert. The waiter brought out a plate a few minutes later, and Cameron ate it quickly.

“Y’know, my mama made the best cheesecake in all of Missouri, but nothing could top her apple pie,” Cameron said, his voice full of pride for his mother, and Mitchell wondered what that was like. He loved his mother, but she always smothered him and nothing she made was the best of anything. 

The check came, and the two fought over it, the way you did when you were trying to be polite and humble, but were secretly fighting over who would end up with it. Mitchell volunteered to pay and after a lot of fighting, Cameron finally gave in, Mitchell arguing that since he had paid for the last date, Mitchell could take this one. 

They left the restaurant, Cameron walking Mitchell out to the car like a gentleman, and Mitchell laughed when Cameron offered him his arm. It was sweet and charming, and just a little bit silly, and Mitchell really liked Cameron. It made him all the happier he hadn’t made a big deal when he found out about Cameron's secret job. They got to his car, and Mitchell couldn’t open the door just yet. 

“Fourth date?” he asked almost shyly, hoping Cameron said yes. He could deal with the Fizbo stuff. At that moment, he just really wanted to see Cameron again. 

“Fourth date,” Cameron said, and then he kissed Mitchell, quick and sudden, then stepped back, giving Mitchell some room. Mitchell got into the driver's seat, then pulled out of the restaurant, waving goodbye behind him, Cameron waving until Mitchell couldn’t see him anymore. 

* * *

“Do you know how amazing Cam is?” Mitchell said, holding a bag of groceries tightly in his grasp. Claire walked beside him, coming back from the farmers market together. They had some free time, Phil taking the kids to an amusement park, and Mitchell used that time to talk about his new boyfriend in person to Claire, rather than just over the phone at 3 am. They had made it official on their fifth date, and it had been a few months since then. Mitchell found himself now to be too busy to see Claire and Jay, so he treasured every moment he got with Claire. Jay not so much. 

“He promised to bring me roses every Friday until we die, and he’s pulled through ever since. I have a vase full of all the flowers he’s gotten me. When was the last time Phil got you flowers?” 

“He used to when we first were dating,” Claire said. “The excitement fades. Just wait a few years, it’ll stop eventually.” 

“I don’t think so, you haven’t met Cam yet,” Mitchell said. “He’s exactly the type of person to get someone roses until the day they die.” 

“So was Phil, and look how that ended,” Claire replied. Mitchell studied her for a few seconds, before it dawned on him with rising joy. 

“You’re jealous,” he said, leaning his head on her shoulder as they walked, grinning wide. “You’re jealous because I don’t have time for you anymore because of my super romantic boyfriend.” 

“No,” Claire huffed, rolling her eyes, and Mitchell straightened out. “You’re wrong.” 

“I don’t think I am,” Mitchell teased. “Don’t worry, I’ll have plenty of time to call you while my boyfriend and I are off in Mexico, getting our nails done.” 

“You’re such a bitch,” Claire said, stomping on Mitchells foot, and he laughed, ignoring the brief pain. 

“I’m not the bitch, no, you’re the bitch,” Mitchell shot back, adjusting the bags in his arms. Claire stopped randomly in the middle of the sidewalk, and Mitchell nearly bumped into her. “Hey, what’s wrong?” he asked slowly, waiting to see if she would try to physically fight him. 

“Look over there,” Claire said slyly, and Mitchell felt his stomach drop. 

Fizbo was in the park at some little kids party, handing out balloon animals. He was laughing while the kids crowded around his feet, looking excited, their joy evident in their eyes even from across the field. Mitchell looked back at Claire, who had a cruel glint in her eyes. 

“You wouldn't” he muttered, feeling dread cloud his body. 

“Oh yes I would.” 

“Claire, please,” Mitchell begged, and Claire turned her body towards the party ready to walk over. “I’ll give you whatever you want. Money, fashion advice, I’ll even babysit your kids for a whole weekend, just don’t go over there.” 

“Damn, what did Fizbo ever do to you?” Claire laughed, then suddenly turned serious, like she just realised something. “He didn’t touch you right?” she asked, looking his body up and down. 

“Ew, no he didn’t,” Mitchell whispered. “And I’m a little offended you don’t think I’m strong enough to fight him off.” 

“You have to admit, you’re not a strongest-” 

“Please don’t finish that sentence.” Mitchell sighed, and ran a hand through his hair. He didn’t know how to explain to Claire that he already knew Fizbo. He didn’t even want to, it would just mean years of constant teasing. “It’s just I feel a little uncomfortable being flirted with now that I’m dating someone,” he lied. 

He didn’t know why he didn’t say something. It would have been easier to just tell the truth and endure the teasing. But for some reason, he felt weird around Fizbo. Logically he knew it was still Cameron, just under layers of white paint and a clown wig. He knew they were two different people, but when Cameron put on the suit, part of him just disappeared. So Mitchell didn’t say a word. 

“That’s a first,” Claire muttered, believing the lie, then shook her head. “But I get it. Unfortunately,” she continued. “It might already be too late.” She pointed to where Fizbo was waving wildly at the two of them, and Mitchell slumped his shoulders in defeat. He waved back, not wanting to appear rude to his boyfriend, otherwise Cameron would yell at him later. He was strangely sensitive about that kind of stuff. 

Across the park Fizbo kissed his hand, then blew it in the direction of Mitchell, and Claire whistled “Damn, he’s pretty smitten by you,” she said, shaking her head. “I kind of feel bad for him.” 

“I don’t,” Mitchell hissed. “Come on, let's just go, okay?” 

“Okay,” Claire said. She started walking, and across the field, Mitchell could see Fizbo turn back to the party and the kids. “I still don’t know why you don’t confront him, tell him you’re dating someone. He should leave you alone after that.” 

“Or he’ll show up at midnight outside my fire escape, trying to break into my apartment,” Mitchell said, walking faster, desperate to leave. 

“Coward,” Claire shot back. “I don’t know how Cam stands to be around you. How did you get someone so amazing to fall for you?” 

“My winning personality, good looks, and amazing sex life,” Mitchell replied, and Claire made a face. “Can we just go?” 

* * *

It was annual Jay’s night at Mitchells father's house, and Mitchell prepared himself. It would be the first one he was attending ever since he started dating Cameron, and he braced himself for a lecture from his dad the second he stepped into the house. But none came. Jay barely even looked at his son, instead turning away, focusing on Claire, like he always did. Mitchell supposed he deserved that; he had been spending too much time with his new boyfriend, but it wasn’t his fault he had finally found someone. He didn’t even think Jay would care if he was gone or even notice his absence. He always was the family disappointment to Jay. First being gay, then being a lawyer, it seemed like no matter what he did wasn’t good enough. 

Mitchell didn’t blame him for being a little pissed. But Jay hadn’t said a word to Mitchell the entire meal, and everyone had noticed. Haley, Alex, and Luke looked between the two worryingly, and both Phil and Claire tried to get Jay to say something. But he didn’t and they eventually gave up on him. 

“Dad, you have to talk to me eventually,” Mitchell said, rolling his eyes, and Jay turned his head, refusing to look at his son. 

“This is childish,” Claire said, getting frustrated. “You can’t shut him out forever.” 

“Watch me,” Jay said, his voice neutral, taking a sip of alcohol, and it would have been kind of bad ass if it wasn’t so infuriating. Mitchell sometimes hated his father's pride. 

Claire sighed, then patted Mitchells shoulder comfortingly. “I have to go, the kids have school in the morning,” she whispered, before ushering the kids through the door. Phil followed them, throwing the keys up in the air, catching them. 

“Dad,” Claire said before leaving. “Act like an adult please,” and Jay looked away at the floor. Claire shut the door, and the two of them were left alone in the empty house. 

“I guess I’ll be leaving,” Mitchell muttered, making his way towards the door, about to grab his coat. There was no use sticking around if Jay wasn’t going to say a word. 

“Wait,” Jay said, his first words to Mitchell that night. Mitchell turned to him, feeling his spirits rise at his dad's voice. Because even though Jay disappointed him time and time again, there was still a part of him that longed for his father's approval. That was what drew him to his English teacher in the first place, and to Charles, the need for a father figures validation in his life. 

“Tell me about Cam.” 

“Well,” Mitchell said, trying to keep the happiness from his voice, lest his father see the effect he had on him. “He’s kind, sweet, and funny, and he cares a lot.” 

“Those are blanket terms,” Jay said, gesturing for Mitchell to follow him into the living room. Mitchell anxiously followed, leaving his coat by the rack. “Tell me about Cam.” 

So Mitchell did. He told Jay about their first meeting (not the one with Fizbo, but the one at Peppers party. He knew he would receive the same amount, if not more, of teasing as Claire), the date Cameron planned for them (leaving out the part of what happened after dinner, but Jay probably knew anyways), and the roses Cameron promised to buy every Friday for him. Jay listened, pouring more and more alcohol into his glass and the night darkened. 

“I really like him dad,” Mitchell said, his heart light with the knowledge that maybe Jay would actually accept him fully for once. They had been fighting for so long about his sexuality, and over the last few months, it was starting to seem like Jay was embracing that part of Mitchell, the part he had fought for so long to keep hidden out of fear of his dad's reaction. 

“Dump him,” Jay responded, and Mitchells heart stopped. 

“What?” he asked, keeping a tremble from his voice with a tremendous amount of effort. 

“I don’t like him,” Jay continued, ignoring his son's stricken face. “He’s using you for something. I don’t know what, but no man is that great.” He took a large sip of his drink, then made a face at it. 

“He’s not doing anything wrong,” Mitchell yelled, standing up, hands shaking. “What is your problem dad? First you ignore me all day, then one of the first things you tell me is to break up with my boyfriend?” 

“Keep your voice down,” Jay said, bringing his hand down, like Mitchell reacting too harshly. “And I just don’t think he’s good enough for you.” 

“He brings me roses and he makes me breakfast on Sundays,” Mitchell hissed through clenched teeth. “What more do you want from him, a fucking war in my honour? Because I think he would.” He paced around the room for a few seconds, trying to bring his anger down, and then it dawned on him. 

“This was never about him not being good enough was it?” he said, turning around to face his dad. “This was about me dating a guy. You hate that, so you try and stop it, covering it up as concern.” 

Jay didn’t say a word, just shoved his face into his glass, and Mitchells worst fear was confirmed. He really thought Jay was growing. He shouldn’t have trusted him. 

“Would you believe me if I say no?” Jay asked after he finished his glass, and Mitchells heart broke. 

“No. Because you’ve done nothing to prove anything else. I thought you were getting better. I was wrong though, I was wrong about it all,” Mitchell yelled, maybe a bit hysterically, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. 

“It’s not that-” Jay started, but Mitchell cut him off. He didn't want to hear anything his father had to say at the moment. It was his turn. 

“Then what is it dad? Is it concern?” Mitchell laughed bitterly, preparing himself for a fight, the fight that always happened when they were together, whether it was in small comments or full out yelling. “Because you’ve never shown me any before. Is it love? You haven’t kissed me since I was twelve, so it can’t be that. Do you even love me dad, because you sure as hell don’t show it.”

“What do you want me to do, shout it from the rooftops?” Jay yelled, setting his glass down on the coffee table. 

“No,” Mitchell cried. “But do something! Accept me, tell me you’re proud of me, bring me gifts, taking me fishing, anything at all.” 

Mitchell wiped his eyes, refusing to cry in front of his dad. He knew his face was blotchy, the way it got when he was embarrassed or pissed. “You have never once protected me, have never once cared for me, never once did anything to make me think you thought of me as a son. You wonder why I took mom's side in the divorce even though she’s batshit insane? It’s because she actually loved me and she showed it.” 

He walked over to the coat rack, grabbing his jacket, the way he should have done before, not giving Jay the chance to speak, the chance to break his heart. He tugged it on, then grabbed his keys from the key holder. Jay wandered in, hands in his pockets like he didn’t know what to do with them. 

“Are you going to give me a chance to explain myself?” he asked, like Mitchell was being the unreasonable one. Like Mitchell was the one who was crazy, finally standing up for himself fully, not half-assed comments about how "he really shouldn't say that". 

“Why should I dad, when it’s just going to be the same bullshit excuses as always.” 

Mitchell tugged open the door, and the cold air seeped in the room. He sent one last glare to his father, and walked out, slamming it behind him. 

* * *

He ended up at Camerons door. He would have gone to Claire, but Claire still loved Jay. She would have comforted Mitchell for the night, then would run right back to Jay’s arms. He couldn’t blame Claire entirely; Jay had loved her more, given her more attention and praise. But he couldn’t stand to be hugged by someone who would betray him later. So he was at Camerons instead, a small house in a small neighbourhood. 

The thing was, Cameron didn’t know the full extent of Mitchell and Jay’s turbulent relationship. He knew Jay had taken some time to come around about his son's sexuality, he knew that Jay wasn’t the best father around, and he knew Mitchell had many quirks as a result of Jay's strange parenting. But he didn’t know badly Jay sometimes rejected his son, and how badly it hurt Mitchell when he did. So Mitchell waited outside of Cameron's door, contemplating if he should walk away or stay. 

Thankfully, the choice was made for him. A curtain shifted by the window, and then Cameron was there, pulling him inside, the buttery yellow of the light illuminating the night. 

“Oh darling,” he said soothingly, directing Mitchell to his couch. “Tell me what happened.” 

He wrapped Mitchell in a hug, and draped a blanket over his shoulders until Mitchell was warm again. So Mitchell did. He told Cameron every word that was thrown by both him and Jay, and what had led up to the fight in the first place. He told Cameron about his and his father's rocky relationship, and Jay’s traditional upbringing, and Jay’s own father who couldn’t show emotion so Jay thought he couldn’t either. Mitchell always thought that part was stupid, but he refused to cry throughout his entire story because Jay told him men ever did, and maybe stuff like that sticks with you no matter how hard you try. 

“Oh honey,” Cameron comforted, running his fingers through Mitchell's hair, and Mitchell looked up at him and thought, “Motherfucker, I don’t deserve you.” 

Mitchell had a problem with saying “I love you.” When asked when the proper time was to say it was by curious friends looking to hear his opinion, he always said some bullshit answer like four months. But he didn’t know. He liked the idea of being in a relationship strong enough to say it one day, and he had been in a few like that. But he still hated the idea of having to say it for the first time one day. If it were up to him if would be said everyday in a relationship right at the start, or it would never be said at all. He didn’t care which one it was as long as they both guaranteed when he did say it eventually, it wasn’t a monumental thing to celebrate later. 

It wasn’t a problem Cameron had. Mitchell could already tell this about him. Cameron was so open about his emotions, so free about what he was feeling right in the moment. He had no walls to break down, while Mitchell had been described by more than one person as a fortress. Whenever Mitchell looked into Cameron's eyes during dinner, or during movie nights, or walks in the park, he could see the “I love you,” in Cameron's eyes. But Cameron never said it, knowing Mitchell had a problem with the words. He said it silently in so many ways, but never out loud. Cameron, as Mitchell was starting to find out, was a very needy person when it came to love. But Cameron never pushed about this, and Mitchell was thankful. 

But Cameron deserved more, so Mitchell pushed aside his personal problems to give Cameron what he knew the man wanted.

“I love you,” he whispered, so quiet it was almost like he was mouthing the words instead. He was unnaturally nervous, though logically he knew he shouldn't be. Cameron wouldn’t push him away over something like this, even if Mitchell would.

Camerons arms squeezed tighter around him, reassuring him that it was okay, that he would be fine. Mitchell really did love having that in his life. Cameron was a blessing. “I love you too.” 

* * *

Luke's fifth birthday rolled around, November eighteenth, quicker than Mitchell expected it to. He was celebrating with a smaller group of people this time, and parents weren’t coming, Luke being deemed older enough to be by himself with his friends. 

Mitchell wasn’t looking forward to the party. He hadn’t talked to Jay since their fight, and wasn’t too excited to see him again. Jay had called once, a few hours after their fight, and Mitchell ignored it, choosing to say with his boyfriend. It had been better that way; Mitchell didn’t think he could handle talking to him again so soon. 

It was almost like deja vu; Mitchell had a brief memory of being pissed off at his dad heading into Lukes fourth birthday, though he didn’t remember why. Probably for the same old shit as always. 

It was unavoidable now. Mitchell wasn’t missing his nephew's fifth birthday just because Jay was being an asshole. In fact, Mitchell had even invited Cameron along so he could meet the family, and maybe even piss Jay off, but Cameron declined, saying he was going as someone much better. He meant Fizbo, obviously. Mitchell had a freakout at first, then calmed down. It wasn’t that big of a deal, and if Mitchell played his cards right, he could keep it a secret from everybody. 

Well, almost everybody. There was still one person Mitchell was going to tell, no matter how much teasing he would have to endure later. 

Claire rushed out of the house as soon as Mitchell's car pulled into the driveway. He stepped out of the car, holding Luke's gift, a new baseball bat. At least he wasn’t late this time. 

“Mitchell, don't be mad at me,” Claire said nervously, sounding way too wound up, like she had drunk one too many coffees. Mitchell was willing to bet she had. "But I hired Fizbo again.” She clenched her eyes shut, waiting for Mitchell to freak out, and Mitchell laughed silently to himself, playing along. He loved teasing his sister, and he barely ever had the chance to. Maybe it was mean, but he was waiting for a chance like this for months. 

“How could you Claire?” Mitchell said, trying to sound as deadpan as possible, but Claire didn’t notice his tone, only his words. “How dare you betray me?” 

“I’m so sorry, but Luke really wanted Fizbo at the party, and I know how much you don’t want to see him, but I couldn’t help it.” 

“My own flesh and blood. I thought you were supposed to stick by family no matter what?” 

Claire cracked open an eye. “Technically Luke is my family too,” she said, then shut her eyes again. 

“Yeah, but only by half. He got a Dunphy and a Pritchett gene. Me and you are hundred percent both Jay and Dede.” 

“What kind of shit logic is that-” Claire yelled, before sighing when she realised it was a joke, and Mitchell was only teasing. “You’re messing with me, aren’t you.” 

“What? No?” Mitchell said, and Claire put her hands on her hips accusingly. “Okay, maybe a little.” 

“You prick. I was trying to warn you,” Claire yelled, and Mitchell handed her Luke's birthday present so she could put it with the rest of them. 

“I appreciate it, but I don’t need it,” Mitchell replied. 

“What did you do?” Claire asked, looking suspicious, and Mitchell rolled his eyes at her distrust. Did she actually think he did something illegal? He may be gay, which was technically illegal in itself, but he wasn't a criminal. 

“I didn’t kill him if that’s what you mean.” He looked back and forth, making sure nobody was around, and lowered his voice to a whisper. He really didn't need anything else hearing. “Can you keep a secret?” 

“What do you want?” Claire whispered back. Mitchell grabbed her arm and tugged her into the house, bringing her into the kitchen corner, knowing nobody would be there and if someone walked in, at least they were far away. 

“So, you know how Cameron has three jobs?” Mitchell started, and Claire nodded. “Well, clowning may be one of them,” he muttered nervously, looking down at his hands. Claire looked confused for a second before it dawned on her. 

“Oh my God, you’re dating Fizbo,” Claire said, glee filling her voice. “After all that complaining you did, you ended up with him. This is amazing.” 

“This is why I didn’t tell you.” 

“Did you know?” Claire asked, eyes filled with happiness at Mitchells expense. “Did you date him because he’s Fizbo? Was Peppers party a cover up?” 

“No I didn’t know,” Mitchell defended. “And I just need to keep away from him for the rest of the party. You have to help me, then you can make fun of me all you want after.” 

“What?” 

“Nobody else knows, and dad is still being an asshole. He can’t know about this.” 

“Dad would kill you.” Claire tapped her finger against her cheek, thinking. “I can’t cancel,” she said. “Luke would be heartbroken.” 

“I’m not asking you to cancel,” Mitchell replied. “I’m asking to keep me away from him during the party. Maybe give me a job, like watching Alex and Haley or something?” 

Claire thought about it. “Fine. You can stay in here getting the snacks ready,” she finally decided. “By then Fizbo should have performed, then left.” 

“Thank you Claire,” Mitchell said, moving past her to the counter where bags of groceries sat. Claire handed him a few glass platters, then moved to head back to the driveway, greeting people as they came in. 

“Mitchell?” she said, pausing at the door. Mitchell looked up from unwrapping a vegetable platter. “Don’t you dare think for one second that this conversation is over,” Claire threatened, and Mitchell sighed, knowing he was going to regret telling her. His chance for teasing her was over. It was her turn. 

“I know.” 

  
  


Claire smiled, then walked out, leaving Mitchell alone and his shame alone. Mitchell took a deep breath in, filling his lungs until they hurt. That wasn’t that hard, and Claire didn’t yell and tease him as much as he thought she would. At least not yet. All in all, fairly successful. 

Setting up the food wouldn’t take the full hour Fizbo was performing, so Mitchell wandered around the house, trying to find some extra decorations in the attic. He idly moved around, waiting until the hour was up. After a few useless minutes, he went back downstairs, heading outside to meet his nephew. Fizbo would be gone by then, it already being an hour and five minutes. 

That calculation was wrong. When Mitchell stepped outside, Fizbo was still in the backyard, giving out balloon animals and toys. Mitchell felt a stab of fear fill him, and he tried to hide. Claire spotted him, and walked over, looking tired. 

“You know, for all the teasing I’m going to do, your boyfriend is pretty cool,” she said, pointing to the clown. “The kids love him.” 

“His name is Cameron, I’m not dating a clown,” Mitchell muttered, and Claire looked at him, laughing. He sighed. “Shut up.” 

“I didn’t say a word.” 

“You were thinking about it.” 

Claire held up her hands in surrender, laughing at him, and Mitchell turned back to survey the party. Luke came barreling over, slamming his body into Mitchells, and Mitchell could believe how much his nephew had grown over the course of a year. 

“Hey Luke,” he said, pulling himself away. “Five years old? That’s amazing.” 

Luke smiled, showing a gap in his mouth. “Yeah it is,” he yelled, clearly hopped up on sugar. Claire kept smiling beside him, though Mitchell could see the flash of fear that filled her eyes when she realised what she would have to deal with later. Mitchell didn’t pity her at all. 

“Are you having fun?” he asked, and Luke nodded wildly. “That’s good.” 

Luke ran off after greeting his uncle, and Mitchell focused his attention back to Claire. “Where’s Phil?” he asked, his eyes sweeping the premises finding no trace of the man. 

“Oh, Phil went inside, said he was feeling sick,” Claire said, waving Mitchell off. Mitchell rolled his eyes, wondering how nobody noticed Phil intense fear of clowns yet. 

Across the yard Fizbo started waving at Mitchell, not yet being freed from the children and their constant demands, and Fizbo indulged them. Mitchell waved back, hoping Fizbo wouldn’t come over, but knowing it was probably going to happen no matter what. At least only Claire knew. There was still one person Mitchell had to keep it from.

“Is dad coming?” Mitchell asked, leaning his head towards Claire. 

“Of course, I don't know where he is though, he promised he’d be here by now.” 

Mitchell sighed, wondering how he was going to deal with Jay. The two of them had a nasty habit of sweeping things under the rug, Jay because he was too prideful to admit when he was wrong or needed help, and Mitchell because it was easier then to let it linger. But it was going to be awkward between them for a while. Mitchell was wondering if he should even go for dinner on the weekend.

Fizbo waved at Mitchell again, finally being freed from the kids countless demands, and he started walking over towards Mitchell. Mitchell nudged Claire in the side, signalling her to act natural, and that was the moment Jay decided to finally show up.

“Hey kid,” he yelled, holding a giant birthday gift, entering through the gate, and Luke cheered, launching himself at his grandpa. Jay laughed, catching Luke in his arms, and Mitchell made a motion of slashing his throat to Fizbo, trying to tell his boyfriend no to come over. Fizbo took the hint, and wandered off, and Mitchell felt relieved. 

“Hey dad, you’re finally here,” Claire said, hugging Jay. “Luke was wondering where you were.” 

“It’s not a party without you,” Luke said, smiling innocently, and Jay ruffled Lukes hair. He looked at Claire happily, and Mitchell stayed in the corner, trying to remain unseen. It didn’t work. 

“Hey Mitch,” Jay waved, and Mitchell stepped forward, waving back. He could be polite after all, even though all he wanted to do was scream. 

“Look I’m sorry about-” 

“Dad, can we talk about it after?” Mitchell asked. “I don’t feel like fighting at a kids birthday party.” 

“Yeah sure,” Jay muttered, handing Lukes present to Claire. He shoved his hands into his pockets awkwardly, and it was silent for a few seconds. Claire wandered off to put the present on the table, and she returned a few minutes later much to the relief of the two of them. Claire always was a good third party between them, just like Mitchell was for her and Dede. 

They stood by the glass door of the house, watching Luke run around. Some of the people from last year were there, but not all of them. Luke had dropped many friends throughout the year, or Claire refused to let Luke over to their place after certain accidents. This party wasn’t as chaotic as last years, and for that Mitchell was grateful. 

Fizbo was at the end of the backyard packing up his stuff, and Mitchell watched him. Fizbo put everything back into his bag, getting ready to leave, and Mitchell was glad. He had gotten through the day with only one person finding out about his boyfriend. By next year, Mitchell hoped Lukes obsession with clowns would be over, or Phil would finally grow a pair and put a stop to it. 

Jay looked towards his son, and followed Mitchells line of sight. “You hired a clown again?” he asked, pointing to Fizbo, and Claire nodded. Mitchell mentally swore. 

“Why would you, he was here last year.” 

“Luke really likes him,” Claire replied. “He said he wouldn’t have a party unless Fizbo was coming.” 

“Isn’t that the same clown that was making Mitchell uncomfortable?” Jay wondered. 

“Uh yeah,” Claire responded. She looked towards Mitchell, shrugging her shoulders. “But he’s fine, right Mitchell?” 

“I’m good,” Mitchell said, waving off the concern. Fizbo didn’t bother him as much as before now that he knew the person behind the clown makeup. “It doesn’t matter.” 

Jay watched Fizbo for a few more seconds. He looked like he was contemplating something, and Mitchell watched him nervously. 

“To hell with it,” Jay muttered after a minute, taking off his jacket and stepping away from the door. “I’m going to go talk to him.” 

Mitchell looked at Claire nervously, before running after his dad. He could already see the train wreck that was going to happen, and he knew he had to do something. 

“Dad, you don’t have to,” Mitchell said, catching up to him. “Dad, it’s fine, I don’t care anymore.” 

“If you can’t deal with it, I will,” Jay replied, turning his head to look at Mitchell. “If you don’t like him, I’ll get rid of him for you.” 

If it wasn’t such a bad idea, Mitchell would be touched. He knew his dad didn’t like talking about shit. He preferred using his actions as an apology, but this was going to end horribly, and Mitchell needed to stop him before something went wrong. Before everyone realised his secret. He would every much prefer if telling people was under circumstances he couldn't control, and especially not in front of a bunch of judgy parents. 

“Dad stop,” he said, and when Jay didn’t listen, he sighed. “You choose today of all days to be a good dad. Why can’t you just repress your emotions like I do?” he muttered to himself, trying to grab Jay’s arm. 

It was too late. Jay stood in front of Fizbo, tapping his shoulder. Fizbo turned around, and smiled when he saw Mitchell. He looked like he was about to say something, but Jay cut him. 

“Oh wipe that stupid grin off your face,” Jay muttered. “Look, I don’t know who you are, but you need to stay away from my son,” he said loudly, and almost everyone turned their heads to watch. Mitchell could see Claire debate with herself on if she should go over and stop it, or watch the drama unfold. Sometimes Mitchell really hated his sister. 

“Dad, you don’t need to do this,” Mitchell hissed. 

“Yes I do,” Jay said, turning to him. “I said some things last time that I regret okay? I need to make it up to you.” 

“And you have, you have,” Mitchell said, tugging his dad's arm. “I love you, I forgive you, we both said some stuff, let's just go.” 

“No Mitchell,” Jay said, holding up his arm. “You deserve better. So you can date Cam if you want-” 

“I could have dated him without your permission,” Mitchell muttered, rolling his eyes. 

“-and I’ll be okay with it.” Jay turned back to Fizbo. “You hear that asshole?” he said to him, looking furious on Mitchells behalf. “My son is already taken, so you need to shut up and leave him alone.”

“I already know that,” Fizbo said, sounding like Cameron, like he had broken his rule to never break character. “I am his boyfriend. Cameron Tucker?” 

Jay stopped, standing still almost like a statue. He slowly turned to Mitchell, who looked down at his shoes now that the truth was out. “You’re dating this clown?” he asked. 

“You never told your family about my third job?” Cameron asked. “Oh I get it,” he continued dramatically, throwing his hands out, finally realising what was happening. “You’re ashamed of me. My own boyfriend. This is lovely.” 

Mitchell looked between the two of them frantically, trying to pacify them both. “There is a story here we all need to sit down and talk about,” he said nervously. “I can explain everything.” 

“What’s there to explain, you’re dating a fucking clown. Literally,” Jay yelled. Claire ran over, finally deciding on something to do. Mitchell sighed happily, grateful for some support. 

“Watch your language, there are children around,” she whispered, and all three men turned to her, looking shocked. 

“Shut up,” they said in chorus, and Claire backed away. Mitchell rolled his eyes, realising he couldn't count on her for help. 

Jay looked between Mitchell and Cameron, then shook his head and walked away, heading inside the house. He didn’t say a word, just walked past the groups of kids staring at them. Mitchell waved awkwardly to them. He took a step like he was following his dad, but Cameron stopped him. 

“Mitchell what’s going on?” 

“I’ll explain later,” Mitchell promised, before running after his dad to fix things. He could deal with Cameron anytime, but Jay wouldn’t want to talk about it tomorrow and he needed to get it out of the way soon. 

“Damn, this is crazy,” Claire said, and Cameron turned to her blankly. 

* * *

Mitchell found his dad on the front steps, looking at the parked cars. It was a brisk day, but the sky was blue, devoid of any clouds. 

“Hey dad,” he said, sitting next to Jay. His dad didn’t look at him, just continued watching the empty vehicles. “That was really nice of you back there,” Mitchell continued, trying to salvage something of their relationship. “I appreciate it, really.” 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Jay asked. 

Mitchell fidgeted with his hands. He didn't know how to talk to him. This had barely ever happened between them.“I didn’t even know until the third date with Cam. And then it was too embarrassing to say anything, especially after our fight.” 

Jay pursed his lips. “You remember when Phil and Claire started dating right?” he said, and Mitchell looked up, confused. This wasn’t how he thought their conversation would go. But at least it was better than feelings. 

“Yeah, of course?” 

“You remember when Claire got that crazy breakup letter signed by Phil, and she yelled at him for hours until it was revealed it was Phil's crazy ex-girlfriend trying to break then up?” 

Mitchell nodded, and Jay sighed. “It actually wasn’t from her. It was from me.” 

“Dad,” Mitchell yelled, though he could see it. To this day, Jay hated Phil with his daughter, and Mitchell always wondered why. Jay never had a valid reason for it. “I hope you never plan on telling Claire that.” 

“Oh no,” Jay laughed. “She’d kill me. But the point I’m trying to make is that it has nothing to do with Cam’s gender or your sexuality. I don’t like anyone dating you two.” 

Mitchell thought about it for a few seconds. “But dad, it’s not fair,” he said at last. “You can’t just scare away everyone you don’t like. You never will.” 

“I know,” Jay sighed. He fiddled with his hands for a few seconds, before speaking again. “But it’s more than that.” He took a deep breath in, like he was preparing himself. “I feel like you’re the last piece of my children,” he stated, and Mitchell looked at him strangely. 

“Claire is all grown up with three kids, a house, a husband,” Jay explained. “And you still feel like my son who used to come caddy for me, not knowing a lick about the sport. Then you left for Cameron, and I got mad, and it was unfair.” 

“I’ve dated many people before,” Mitchell replied. He didn’t know what else to do. Jay’s confession was incredibly unexpected, and Mitchel could feel the earlier anger at him melt away no matter how hard he tried to stop it. “Teddy, Charles.” 

“But none like this,” Jay responded. “You really like this man. So I’ll try and be nice. For you.” He turned to Mitchell, finally meeting his eyes, almost like it was a chore. “Just promise you’ll still come to dinner every weekend?” 

“Of course dad,” Mitchell said, leaning in for a hug. He really didn't expect to see that side of his dad today, and he was grateful for it. He wrapped his arms around his dad, and Jay returned the favour. They stayed like that for a few seconds, the most physical contact they had with each other for a very long time. 

“Are you crying?” Jay asked after a few seconds, sounding disappointed. 

“No,” Mitchell lied, pulling away. “I just got something in my eyes.” 

“Sure,” Jay joked, slapping Mitchell on the back. Their serious moment had passed, and Jay was back to being his old self. Mitchell doubted there would ever be another one between them. 

They continued looking over the cars, sitting together in silence. A few minutes later and Cameron emerged, heading to his car, carrying his box of balloons. 

“Hey Cam,” Mitchell yelled, waving him over. Cameron turned to him, then looked away, nose in the air. He pointedly slammed his truck shut, then got into the car, driving away without a word. 

Mitchell lowered his arm, cringing. He sighed, dreading the shitstorm that was going to happen that night. “Fuck,” he whispered, and Jay laughed.

“Good luck kid,” he said, watching as Cameron drove away. "I usually found earrings and roses to work for Dede." 

Mitchell rolled his eyes, then began to mentally prepare for which flowers to give Cameron to properly convey how sorry he was. 

* * *

“What are you doing?” Mitchell asked, watching as Cameron folded up his clown costume, placing it delicately in a box. 

It was a few months later and they were moving in together. They found a wonderful place in a small neighbourhood, something that appealed to both their tastes and their price ranges. Mitchell was at Cameron's house, helping him pack up so they could leave. 

“Well, if you really must know,” Cameron said, placing the clown wig on top. “I quit my job as Fizbo a few days ago.” 

“What?” Mitchell said, trying not to sound as happy as he actually was. Fizbo still freaked him out sometimes, despite knowing who was under the makeup. Maybe it was just clowns. Mitchell was beginning to understand Phils intense fear. “As much as I love this plan, I really hope you didn’t quit because of me.” 

“Oh don’t kid yourself,” Cameron said, shutting the box and taping the entrance, sounding so dramatic. “I quit because I was offered a raise at the school, and I don’t need to do this anymore.” 

“That’s horrible,” Mitchell said, a contractionary statement, not being able to contain his joy. A large smile stretched across his face, and Cameron rolled his eyes. 

“Great, my own boyfriend doesn't support me. Well, as much as you'll hate this, I’ll still be performing for Luke and any of his friends,” Cameron continued. “So you’ll still be seeing lots of Fizbo.” 

“Anything is better than before,” Mitchell replied, already thinking of places he could hide the clown box where Cameron couldn’t find it. At the top of their closet with Mitchells ugliest clothes sounded good. Cameron wouldn't dare go up there. “At least this time it’s not professional.” 

“Do you always stomp on people's dreams Mitchell?” Cameron asked, bringing the box out to the car. Mitchell followed him, carrying his own stuff. “Is that something you do regularly?” 

“Just the ones I don’t like.” 

“You bitch,” Cameron muttered, and Mitchell laughed, finally feeling at peace with Camerons own strange quirk, his constant dressing up as a fucking clown. God only knows how many Mitchell himself had, but that was relationships for you. Living with the person you loved, quirks and all. 

**Author's Note:**

> i was writing, then I thought "hey, maybe I should write a fic where Cameron as Fizbo tortures Mitchell, and Mitchell doesn't know it was Cameron, then goes to Cam for comfort" and i had to step away for a minute. 
> 
> anyway, i hope you enjoyed.


End file.
